Mercurial
by MercuryPilgrim
Summary: Kanda does not like people. He likes children even less. Regrettably for the irritable swordsman, his fellow Exorcists are indisposed and the duty of researching a magic school falls to him. How unfortunate. Rated Teen for language because Kanda.
1. Chapter 1

_Disclaimer: _I do not own D. Grey-Man or any of its affiliates. Anything that you recognise is property of its respective owners. Any relations to persons living or dead are purely coincidental.

_Base/s:_ D. Grey-Man

_Title:_ Mercurial

_Summary:_ Kanda does not like people. He likes children even less. Regrettably for the irritable swordsman, his fellow Exorcists are indisposed and the duty of researching a magic school falls to him. How unfortunate. Rated Teen for language because Kanda.

_A/N:_ A little bit of silliness on my part. I love Kanda, probably because he's just a Jerk with a heart of Jerk. (TVTropes, look it up)

Also, an important note about timeframes. This fic is set in Hogwarts time. This means it's set during the 1990's. The reason for this is because A. Messing with time-travel to get things to fit crossover wise is awkward and often doesn't work. B. It's easier for me. And C. The D. Grey-Man is set in the 1800's, but they have modern showers and robots. What? Therefore, I'm keeping everything the same, but just bumping the Black Order into modern times. They're just old fashioned is all.

_Music used for inspiration:_ Save Rock and Roll (album) – Fall Out Boy

* * *

Yuu Kanda was Not Pleased.

In his mind, the capitalisation was compulsory and entirely necessary, because words alone did not even come close to adequately describing the loathing he felt at that very moment.

He didn't shout, he didn't whine, he didn't even get up and walk away.

Instead, his mouth thinned into a grim, barely noticeable line and his eyes were imperceptibly narrowed.

Komui began to wither in front of him.

Maybe, if he was lucky, the Supervisor would continue to wither under the force of his utter disgust that he would actually waste away and disperse, never to bother anyone ever again.

It didn't seem to be happening however, no matter how hard he tried.

The Supervisor wrung his hands and his eyes darted to and fro, apparently looking for escape routes.

Kanda would have given a grim, satisfied smile had he not been focussed on other things, such as attempting to vaporise the man in front of him through sheer force of will.

Escape?

Not today sunshine.

Komui swallowed uncomfortably and opened his mouth to speak. He didn't get the chance.

"No."

The flat refusal left the Supervisor somewhat unbalanced. He had been expecting some sort of violent outburst, shouting and threats. This deadpan rejection was odd to say the least.

Komui cleared his throat uncomfortably and shifted his weight from one foot to the other. Lord, this was painful. He was perfectly well equipped (mostly) to deal with all the other oddballs (not that he could talk) that came through his door on a regular basis, but this one always gave him problems.

"Maybe you would consider, er- giving a different answer?" He offered weakly, a watery smile attempting to lighten the mood. Foolish, he reprimanded himself, one did not simply 'lighten the mood' when in contact with Yuu Kanda.

"_Fuck_ no."

Komui grimaced. He should have expected that. Internally, he lamented his fate. Why, why did this unenviable task fall to him? Actually, he could answer that one easily. This was his _job. _What he should have been asking, however, was why –oh why- did it end up being Kanda who was the only one available?

A born and bred misanthrope that one was, Komui bemoaned. He sighed and risked a look at the man in front of him. Arms folded over his chest, an expression like steel and eyes that were _daring_ him to say something.

He pinched the bridge of his nose.

"Listen Kanda," He started, and then paused before forging on when it became apparent that he wasn't about to be interrupted this time. "If there was anyone else I could send, believe me, I would be sending them."

The swordsman raised an eyebrow, a silent prompt to continue.

"Allen and Lenalee are both too young to take a teaching position, and I will not have their assignment be hindered by their status as students." He explained, secretly rather pleased his sister would not be leaving in the foreseeable future. "Krory is in the Ukraine and obviously is not going to be abandoning his own mission for this one. Personally, I would much prefer to be sending Lavi, since he would make a far better teacher than you- no offence." Komui held up his hands, showing he meant no disrespect. Kanda merely shrugged, conceding the point. Komui breathed a sigh of relief that the swordsman had not been insulted.

The Supervisor continued. "But he's in the medical ward at the moment with a broken ankle. So that leaves you. Trust me; I want to inflict you on children about as much as you want to be inflicted upon them."

Kanda was silent for a moment before he narrowed his eyes. "And Lotto? She meets requirements, does she not?" He challenged.

Komui snorted.

"Kanda, do you really think Miranda could handle teaching kids? _Magical_ kids, at that?"

Kanda saw Komui's point there. Grudgingly. He sighed.

"Isn't there _anyone_ else? Can't a Finder go? Hell, why can't _you_ go?"

Komui frowned.

"I have _responsibilities_ Kanda."

The swordsman snorted and an unimpressed look settled itself on his face. Responsibilities. Right.

Komui looked flustered. "I do!" he defended, before straightening his glasses and changing the subject.

"I thought about sending a Finder or two, but we don't know all that much about what we will be facing there. Hopefully nothing but a few bratty children, but…" he trailed off, looking unusually serious. "Hope for the best, but plan for the worst." He suddenly smiled. "Besides, only someone with _Innocence _can go."

Kanda blinked.

"Why?" He managed, confused.

Komui adopted a scholarly look.

"Since it's a magical school, it's hidden from non-magical eyes. Otherwise they'd have all sorts of people poking around in their business, not to mention wanting solutions to all their problems. So it's hidden. People with magic can see it, but those without can't. Ingenious, yes?"

The Supervisor looked tickled pink at the prospect of such a fascinating thing being at his fingertips.

Kanda was less pleased.

"And what does this have to do with me?" He questioned roughly. "I'm not magical."

Komui raised an eyebrow.

"No, you're not. You do, however, have Innocence. Its presence gives you certain improvements, as you already know; speed, endurance, strength etcetera." He pushed his glasses further up his nose with a finger. "Due to its appearance, you have some measure of preternatural sense, as you already know. They have word for people who are born into magical families, but who cannot cast it themselves. Squib. You are not naturally magical, but with the manifestation of Innocence, you have just enough to see through these kinds of things. You –and all Innocence Accommodators- are technically 'unnatural Squibs'."

Kanda's lips twitched in amusement. "I've been called worse."

Komui grinned. "I'm sure. You can't cast magic, nor will you register as being magical, but you will function as a Squib would." He shrugged. "We were planning on using that as your cover, actually."

Kanda frowned. It seemed he really didn't have much of a choice. At least Komui had actually _explained_ why he was going, as opposed to simply chivvying him along without telling him what was going on save for the bare essentials like he usually did.

He sighed (he idly noticed he was doing that a lot in the Supervisors presence), and unconsciously pinched the bridge of his nose.

"Alright, _fine_." He agreed resentfully, feeling like he was signing his own death warrant.

Komui's face lit up and Kanda almost felt nauseated. The Supervisor clapped his hands together happily. Kanda felt compelled to nip this cheerfulness in the bud before –god forbid- it spread.

Grabbing the Supervisor by the front of his coat, the swordsman pulled him closer. Komui squeaked.

"If I _ever_ find out someone else could have done this fucking job, I will cut you balls to brain and string you up in your office by your own intestines." He snarled, "_Are we_ _clear_?"

Komui nodded mutely. Kanda released his vice grip on the other man's coat, and watched with no little satisfaction when the Supervisor wobbled and put a hand out to steady himself.

Kanda felt a small, maliciously satisfied smirk work its way onto his face as he turned to leave and prepare.

"Good."

* * *

As it turned out, this job was going to be even worse than he had initially thought. As it was, he had been expecting to be thrown into the middle of this –_whatever_- with only a goal and his sword.

Oh no. That would have been far too simple.

There was _research_.

He had to know enough about this world so that he fit almost seamlessly within it. Komui had provided books and a time frame. Three weeks.

Kanda was not impressed.

He was in a bad mood. This in itself wasn't at all unusual; in fact it was rare when he wasn't at least somewhat pissed off at _something_ –or some_one_.

What made this particular bad mood noteworthy was the sheer depth of ire that the long haired swordsman was carrying around with him.

The cloud of barely repressed wrath that surrounded the Exorcist warned people away, even before they got close enough to lay eyes on this thunderous visage, equipped with a glare that could have melted steel.

He sat on his own in the mess hall, a half-eaten bowl of Soba in front of him along with several books spread out in a corona around where he was sitting. There was a pair of chopsticks in one hand, and the other was turning pages every so often. His customary scowl was set firmly on his face, made more potent by the bags under his eyes and sickly pale pallor of his skin.

He'd snapped at Allen with such venom when the boy had taken it upon himself to find out what Kanda was doing (and poke fun at the temperamental man), the white haired Exorcist had let his jaw drop and decided to make his exit, rather than stay and argue as he usually would have done.

Unbeknownst to Kanda, there was a quiet argument going on just outside of the mess hall. Lenalee, who had set eyes on the swordsman and had been struck by how tired and worn he was looking, had made to go over and engage her comrade in conversation. She had been intercepted by Allen and Miranda (who had somehow been swept along by the young Exorcist, and wasn't entirely sure what she was doing there), and was on her way to being persuaded that she should really leave then swordsman alone, and not suffer emotional damage from his acid tongue.

After a solid quarter an hour of listening to wheedling, coaxing and the politest arguing she had ever heard, Miranda sighed.

She dared to chance a look through the doors to the mess hall, and almost immediately felt her eyes being drawn to a particularly sparse area. Other exorcists and residents of the Headquarters were wisely avoiding the space around the Japanese exorcist, who appeared to either not notice or not care.

She bit her lip. He looked _ill._ Tired and worn and drained.

She felt a twinge of sympathy.

Kanda Yuu was a terrifying prospect of an exorcist, and she was loathe to approach him at the best of times, let alone when he was radiating such active hostility.

Not that he was particularly amiable anyway, she reasoned. Kanda Yuu was the very _definition _of hostile.

Still, she felt bad for him.

It was fine, she reassured herself, he wasn't going to hurt her.

… He _probably_ wasn't going to hurt her.

She gave herself a small shake and wondered when she'd entered the mess hall and begun walking towards his table. She heard Lenalee make an exclamation from behind her, and Allen beseech her to stay put. Not wanting to insult anyone by ignoring them, she half turned and put on a brave smile so they didn't worry, and mouthed a generic reassurance that she would be fine.

She really hoped she would be fine.

Her hands were shaking. She clenched them into fists by her side, and calmed her breathing.

'_Think of this like a challenge.'_ She told herself, biting her lip. _'He won't run you through; the worst he can hit you with is words. Words are fine. I can handle words.'_

As she approached the area in which he was sitting, the amount of people thinned out and eventually stopped altogether.

It was only as she got close enough to pick out words on the books he was pouring over did he seem to acknowledge her presence.

He suddenly flicked his eyes up from underneath his fringe, and speared her with a sharp look.

She wanted very much to run right now.

"What the _fuck_ do you want?" He snarled at her, his fingers clenching around the chopsticks in his hand. She had the sudden, involuntary thought that he could easily stab her with them.

Her breath caught in her chest, and she panicked for a moment.

"I-" she started, before digging her nails into her palms and steeling her nerves. "I was w-wondering if you were a-alright."

She internally cursed herself for her stammer, how pathetic was she?

He narrowed his eyes.

"And how is that any of your damn business?" He questioned roughly.

She wrung her hands.

"I-t's just…" He trailed off, not entirely sure how to continue. "You look ill."

Inside her mind, she balked. _'_Mein Gott_,_ _did I really just say that? This is beyond rude!'_

She immediately set about apologising, eyes wide and face horrified.

"I-I'm so sorry! It's just that you've b-been working so hard recently, and I can s-see it's making you ill and I felt bad for you and you s-should really rest before you get hurt and I c-can help if you would like and-" she had to stop for breath, and realised she was babbling. "I'm sorry!"

"Stop apologising!" He snapped, before laying the chopsticks down and pushing his food away. He regarded her with a blank, unreadable stare. She fidgeted and prepared herself for a verbal beating.

She kept her eyes on the floor, unable to look up.

She heard a sigh. She chanced a glance upwards. He was rubbing the bridge of his nose, apparently to ward off head pain.

"What business of _yours_ is it how I look?" He asked irritably, eyes resting on hers and holding her fast.

Maybe she wasn't out of the danger zone just yet.

She fidgeted.

"I-I-" Now she was stuttering again. "I just don't want you hurting yourself." She whispered.

"And why do you give a shit?" He asked, derisive and hostile. He leaned forward in his chair and she felt claustrophobic despite the fact she was standing and he was sitting.

"Y-You're my comrade." She murmured. "I'm sorry I disturbed y-you, but you're burning yourself o-out. I'm sorry for b-being so presumptuous!"

He relaxed his posture, to her surprise.

"I don't _need_ your help." He stated flatly, pulling his books towards him.

She nodded shakily and opened her mouth to speak when she was cut off.

"Don't you dare apologise again." He warned sharply, deftly stacking the multitude of books. She flushed. He snorted. "Right. Stop doing that so much, it's annoying and it makes you look weak."

She bowed her head. So words hurt a little more than she'd told herself, she knew that.

Swiftly standing and tucking the books under his arm, he stood in front of her.

Thinking he wanted her to move, she quickly stepped to the side meekly, feeling foolish.

When he didn't move, she looked up nervously.

He was staring straight at her. She felt her cheeks heat up and cursed her skin.

"If you don't like how much I'm working, blame Komui. It's _his_ fault I have to do this shit." He remarked snidely, and made to pass her. She gathered what remained of her tattered courage.

"I-If you like," she started quietly, not wanting to announce what she was saying to the world. "I can t-try to help. I won't tell anyone, I p-promise. You don't h-have to if you d-don't want to."

He stilled and for a second, she thought he might take her up on her offer and he wasn't quite as bad as he liked to portray.

It was when he turned to face her, however, that she realised she'd been wrong.

His mouth was pulled into an ugly snarl and the effect was heightened by the dark rings under his eyes and pallid, drawn skin.

She gasped and stepped back, her form shaking.

"Don't _pity _me." He growled. "I told you, _I don't need your fucking help."_ He drew back, throwing a wrathful glare at her. "Now leave me the hell alone."

Without anything further, he turned and stalked out of the mess hall, radiating anger and leaving the brown haired exorcist standing on her own, fighting back panic.

She felt sick.

She was dimly aware that Allen and Lenalee had reached her and were concernedly asking if she was alright. The white haired exorcist was interspersing his comforting with small rants about the swordsman.

Despite her shakiness, and her regret of even thinking of approaching the closed off, antagonistic exorcist, she felt a small measure of happiness that she had reached out. She'd _tried_ and even though it hadn't worked, she'd faced down her fear.

She had tried, she could do nothing more.

* * *

Kanda shut the door to his room with enough force to let the noise resound around his living quarters.

He dumped the pile of books on his bed without preamble, and sat heavily on the end. He rested his head in his hands.

_Fuck._

He hadn't meant to snap so viciously at the German woman, although he was certainly not regretting making her leave him alone.

Damn Komui. Damn this stupid mission to this stupid goddamn school.

He sighed and decided that despite his harsh words earlier, the Lotto woman had been right. He should take a break, if only for a while.

Standing, he rolled his shoulders and reached upwards, hands deftly untying the tie that kept his hair in place.

Running his fingers through his now loose hair, he made his way towards his door, intent on a shower and an early night.

After some more study, of course.

* * *

It wasn't often Komui felt guilty about revenge, but this was one of those times.

He supposed he should have thought it out a bit better, since this situation should have been easy enough to predict.

Apparently overloading Kanda Yuu with an almost impossible workload was a bad idea, since he was now even more inimical and unpleasant to deal with. Not to mention the fact that the swordsman had almost made Miranda Lotto cry (which, admittedly, wasn't that difficult), and had startled Allen with such a vicious slew of curses and profanity that the young exorcist had actually _backed off_, as opposed to butting heads with his comrade.

The Supervisor rubbed his temples.

He'd seen how tired and ill the Japanese exorcist was looking these days, and felt an unpleasant lurch in his stomach.

Yes, he felt bad.

While it was certainly necessary, the research was not nearly as pressing as he had made it out to be.

He'd half thought that the dark haired man would have come complaining to him about the sheer volume of work he was being tasked with (whereupon Komui could engage in some well-deserved gloating), but he had clearly underestimated the others stubbornness.

It wasn't that he felt especially guilty about the level of pressure Kanda was under, but rather the fact that he had inflicted a supremely stressed Kanda on the population of the Black Order headquarters, which if not remedied soon, was likely to result in some mental breakdowns and/or dismemberment. Possibly both. Maybe at the same time.

He scowled.

He couldn't even tell Kanda to take it easy, since as oblivious as the swordsman could be sometimes, he was perceptive enough to find fault with this. Then Komui would be in trouble.

Big trouble.

Severe wound, stay in the hospital, Mugen related trouble.

The Supervisor raised his coffee cup to his lips, but found it empty.

Cursing, he set the mug on his desk with more force than was strictly necessary.

Wonderful.

* * *

Kanda was irritated.

Nothing new there, but this was a _specific _irritation directed at a particular person.

He was being avoided.

This was perfectly fine by him, and often appreciated. However, this was getting ridiculous.

Miranda Lotto was getting on his nerves.

Every time he passed her in a hallway, she would still like a doe in a hunters sights and tremble when he drew close. This would have been funny (if only to him), if it wasn't so awkward.

He could hear her relieved sigh when he was significantly far away, and occasionally hear her mumbling something in her native tongue which sounded suspiciously like prayer.

He scowled just thinking about it.

This was stupid and- _goddamn it-_ he was feeling just a little bit bad about tearing into her the other day.

Normally, he wouldn't have reacted so in such a volatile manner. Alright, that was a lie. He wouldn't have _lost control_ so much as he had done.

She was not making fun of him; she was honestly trying to help. Help he didn't want, but it was nothing malicious on her part.

That's why he felt like her fear of him was unwarranted. He wasn't suddenly going to attack her in the hallways, and certainly wasn't going to snap and go on some murderous rampage through the Headquarters. Well, not _yet_.

So it was with an irritated glance and a sharp voice that he called her name when he spotted her in a hallway a few days later.

Miranda swore she felt her heart stop when she heard her name called. Oh _Gott_, had she done something against the rules?

She felt faint when she turned, a meek look on her face and an apology on her lips, only to see the one person she had been trying to avoid striding purposefully towards her, his boots rapping harshly against the cold floor of the Orders hallways.

"Lotto." He addressed her once he was close enough. His tone was neutral and for that she was thankful. She chanced a glance upwards. He was looking better. The circles under his eyes were not gone, but were certainly less noticeable and his skin had regained some colour.

This cheered her somewhat.

"_H-Herr_ Kanda." She greeted, wringing her hands. "What c-can I do for you?"

He raised an eyebrow at her polite form of address and she felt her cheeks redden. He was younger than her by several years, and she was deferring to him as though he was her social superior. In fact, Kanda Yuu was probably one of the few people who actually had _less_ of a social life than she did.

He paused for a moment before speaking.

"You've been avoiding me." He stated plainly. She gasped softly in embarrassment at being found out, but he continued before she had the chance to speak.

"Listen, I'm not about to attack you in the halls, so quit fucking _praying_ every time you pass me."

Oh, she wanted the ground to swallow her up right now. He could _hear_ her? She was so stupid, to assume he was out of earshot! She was just grateful not to find herself on the wrong end of Mugen!

"_Es tut mir leid!_" She almost shouted, tears welling up in her eyes. "I didn't mean-"

"For fucks sake, stop apologising!" He snarled, making her flinch. He sighed and folded his arms. "Listen, all I was going to say was that you don't need to be so frightened." He grumbled, looking away. "I'm not going to _hurt_ you or anything."

She blinked in surprise. This situation had suddenly taken a surreal edge. She thought for a moment that she might have not even gotten up this morning, and was in fact still dreaming. If that was the case, however, she was struck by how utterly boring her 'dream' had been up until now.

"A-ah. R-Right." She managed to force out, cursing her stutter. It was justified however, she thought, in the face of intimidating people, which Kanda Yuu certainly qualified as.

Suddenly, she realised how _uncomfortable_ he looked. He was standing awkwardly, arms folded stubbornly over his chest and purposefully not looking in her direction, a scowl set on his face.

Maybe it was the hysteria talking (and she kind of hoped it was), but that scowl looked dangerously close to a pout. It made him look almost… endearing.

And that was when Miranda Lotto realised something about the world she was living in, and her part in it.

Kanda Yuu was _adorable_ when he was embarrassed.

She flushed. _That_ thought was going to be locked away in the deepest recesses of her mind, and was _never_ coming out again. Although, it was interesting to note that 'adorable' and 'mildly terrifying' were not mutually exclusive.

He squinted at her, and she bit her lip.

Apparently deciding that whatever was causing her odd reaction was nothing he cared about, the Japanese Exorcist made to walk past her and away from this incredibly awkward situation. He was already regretting this.

When he was sufficiently far away and about to turn the corner, she let out a sigh of relief.

Her muscles relaxed and she closed her eyes, blowing a long breath out through pursed lips. It wasn't an apology, but it didn't need to be. She wasn't so petty enough to demand one (not that she felt she _deserved _one), and was understanding enough that it wasn't even really required.

The pleasant feeling of relief was abruptly taken from her when she heard his voice again. She jumped and looked around, finding his half turned towards her. His expression was something she couldn't really place, half grudging and half amused, it was an odd thing to see on his usually sullen visage.

"Oh, and Lotto?" She swallowed and in that second, she'd lost her chance to reply as he spoke again. "I took your advice."

And with that he was gone, sweeping around the corner and disappearing, with only the steadily softening of his footsteps leaving any trace he had been there at all.

Standing still in place, frozen with a mixture of embarrassment, nerves and confusion, Miranda Lotto allowed herself a shaky smile.

"_Ich bin froh."_

* * *

Kanda almost grinned as he shut the door to his room. Almost. As it was, it was more like a tiny, wicked upturn of his lips that told of his humour and had anyone been there to see it, they would have likely made an excuse to leave and gone to hide in a bunker until whatever gruesome, cruel event that smile heralded was over with.

Messing with people was _fun._ Even if he had to wade through bullshit.

He now understood why Lavi did it so often.

* * *

While social development was occurring in the Black Order headquarters, a slightly less tense atmosphere was permeating the staff room at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

Professor Dumbledore was pleased. This wasn't surprising, as he seemed to find joy in the smallest of things, but it was rare that he managed to pluck up sufficient happiness to carry him through the dull tedium of staff meetings.

"Albus?" His right hand woman, Minerva McGonagall was at his elbow, watching the rest of the staff settle into their seats. The start of term was a scant two weeks away, and he'd called an impromptu meeting to discuss certain events he felt the staff should probably be informed of. Not that it wouldn't be amusing to _not _inform them, and sit back to watch the mayhem, but mayhem (however fun it could be) often incurred a significant amount of paperwork. He would rather avoid that.

"Forgive me Minerva," He smiled at his colleague. "Just an old man's mind taking him places."

She raised an eyebrow.

"One would hope it returns soon then, or else we'll all go home after you called us out here and it'll all be for nothing."

He chuckled.

"Indeed. I'll not keep you admirable folk too long. Just an announcement or two you should be aware of."

She eyes him suspiciously, and he fought the impulse to grin. That woman had known him for far too long, and knew his propensity for humour.

When everyone had settled, from the caretaker to the sullen potions master to the ephemeral Divination professor, he clapped his hands together.

With a smile he began his address.

"My dear colleagues, firstly I must apologise for dragging you away from your homes this afternoon to listen to my talking. I promise I will not keep you too long, lest I give in the pull of old age and begin to ramble." His eyes twinkled as he continued. "You recall, of course, the new elective we have offered to our students?" There was collective murmuring and some sporadic nods. "Excellent! Well, it would seem I have procured an instructor for Physical Education and Self Defence!"

He beamed at his collective staff, who looked a little more interested, but not quite as excited as he had hoped.

"Wonderful." The snarky, sarcastic voice of his Potions Master rang out from where the man was sitting with his arms folded, looking unimpressed. "Can you not tell how utterly enthused we are about this little pet project?"

The headmaster frowned.

"It's not just a 'project of mine' Severus," he chided. "The instructor will be coming from an organisation that I have hoped to gain a rapport with for some time. They are quite secretive, and I have invited one of their members here in an effort to forge friendship between us. An exchange of information, one could say." He smiled.

There was a general murmur of interest and no little suspicion. He forged on.

"They are quite a selective, enigmatic group who operate globally. What they hunt is actually quite rare, when one thinks of the possibilities…" he trailed off, lost in thought. He brought himself back to the present. "They are, simplistically, demon hunters."

The reaction was not as explosive as it could have been. They were adult Witches and Wizards after all, and they were fully aware that there were unexplainable things in the world, and that they could not know them all. Demon hunters were not such a difficult thing to believe in when one remembered that such things as Kelpies, dragons and merfolk were all rather commonplace in magical society.

There were a few minutes of quiet discussion, and some disbelief, followed by patient explanation before the Headmaster brought the conversation around.

"Please," He called, raising his hands for quiet. "I have received communication from their European Headquarters and they intend to send one of their top operatives." He surveyed them over the rims of his half-moon glasses. "Their _top_ operatives."

He was pleased when the Muggle Studies professor (at least!) gave a small chuckle at his Muggle film reference.

"They wish to learn more about magic, and we would most certainly benefit from their specialist knowledge and skill. Who knows, we might make some friends." He finished brightly.

"The Ministry has been informed, of course," he continued blithely, "they will be keeping an eye on our guest, and will inevitably be interested in the near future, but have made it clear that he or she will be _our_ responsibility."

Minerva, who had been relatively quiet during the briefing, spoke up with a frown.

"Albus, do you not think we are taking on a little too much this year? After all, we will have three other schools to be responsible for, as well as the added issue of the Tournament itself."

He nodded, having considered this himself.

"A valid concern, certainly." He agreed. "I think, however, that this will be less a _task_ and more something that we can quietly monitor and step in if something untoward happens. This operative is a professional after all, so I don't think we'll have too many worries."

His words seemed to set the staff at ease somewhat, as did his benign smile.

It wasn't their duty to worry about these kinds of things. That weight was on his shoulders. He did not need to tell them that if he had a doubt about this venture, it would have certainly not gone ahead. He could make mistakes, surely, but he had done all he could. He had a bad feeling about the future, something he couldn't explain. He would need their strength. He simply hoped they would be willing to give it.

He clapped his hands again cheerfully, giving no inclination as to the sombre nature of his thoughts.

"I requested an opening of dialogue with the Supervisor of their Headquarters a week or so ago, and he has informed me that they have selected an individual to take the post." He chuckled. "Our interchange became quite informal, as I don't believe the Supervisor is the sort of man who insists of formality often. He is quite the academic, and our discussion often veered into the realm of the theoretical." He grinned, the action taking years of his wrinkled face. "It seems it will be an interesting experience, hosting this 'Kanda Yuu'."

Snape raised an eyebrow.

"Why so?" He questioned shortly.

The Headmaster shook his head in amusement. "It seems Mister Kanda is quite the ahh- character, shall we say?" He nodded. "Indeed, he appears to be a younger, more acerbic version of yourself, Severus."

Pomona Sprout gave an exclamation of what could have been either surprise or amusement, perhaps both.

"He can't be that bad, surely!" she exclaimed.

Dumbledore chuckled at his Potions Masters rapidly darkening visage, and the rest of the staffs entertained faces.

"We shall see Pomona, shall we not?" He gave a half shrug of his thin shoulders. "After all, he will be arriving within a week."

With that proclamation, the meeting continued for some time, well into the darkening evening. The sun was dropping over the horizon earlier and earlier as it moved towards Autumn, and the staff were talking about this new development for long after the last vestiges of light had trickled down the canvas sky, and night had brought its velvet scene to drape across the world.

* * *

_And that's a wrap for this first chapter._

_I had intended to write more of Avaritia: Book Two, but I got distracted. Again. My bad. Still, I'm on holiday as of now (although I still have work to do…) and therefore have actual free time to do things other than research, write, eat and occasionally sleep._

_Which is nice._

_I don't intend for there to be much, if any romance in this, and if there will be, it will not be slash. No problem with it myself, but I find it difficult to write, seeing as I don't have any experience with it, and as I rarely read it either. Sorry, but no Yullen (never liked that pairing…) or Lava (or whatever the hell it's called). No Hogwarts gals either. I rather like the idea of Kanda/Hermione myself, but not within this context of teacher and student, not to mention the age gap here. Also, Kanda/Tonks has possibility… But not here. Maybe an Omake or two somewhere along the line. If there is going to be shipping, it will likely be Kanda/Miranda. It's a guilty pleasure of mine. That's not set in stone though, so don't be looking forward to it or anything._

_Watch this space, and please, badger me to do things. Hound me until my inbox EXPLODES about getting off my ass and writing. Seriously, if people don't poke me to do stuff, it's likely I will never get around to it. People who read my Purgatorio series know this all too well. So yes, poke the lazy person._

_Be that as it may, please do leave a review (especially in these initial chapters) so I know I have things going in the right direction and whatnot, or if things needs to be tweaked._

_Thanks in advance,_

_MercuryPilgrim_


	2. Chapter 2

_Disclaimer: _I do not own D. Grey-Man, Harry Potter or any of their affiliates. Anything that you recognise is property of their respective owners. Any relations to persons living or dead are purely coincidental.

_Base/s:_ D. Grey-Man and Harry Potter

_Title:_ Mercurial

_Summary:_ Kanda does not like people. He likes children even less. Regrettably for the irritable swordsman, his fellow Exorcists are indisposed and the duty of researching a magic school falls to him. How unfortunate. Rated Teen for language because Kanda.

_Music: _Hit the Road Jack – Ray Charles

To the anonymous reviewer '_Skorm_': I have no plans to make this fic Kanda/Hermione, but if you would like, a can do an Omake or two at a later date once the story is underway a bit more.

* * *

Laziness was not something Kanda was used to. It wasn't in his nature to feel slothful and lethargic.

It was with great reluctance however, that he forced his eyes open and groaned, running a hand over his face and wishing very much that he could get back under his covers and bury his face in his pillow, ignoring that fact that he had to get up and do _things._

Someone had once said to him that it would be a cold day in hell when he didn't start his day with an hour or two in the training hall.

If that was so, then the Devil was wearing a parka and warming his clawed hands on a mug of hot chocolate, because Kanda was certainly not looking forward to starting his day. He'd managed to lie in bed blissfully doing _nothing_ for about ten minutes before he decided that he had wasted enough time, and that if he didn't get up now, he would probably fall asleep again to his own detriment.

Sighing and forcing himself to sit up, he irritably brushed loose, rumpled hair from his face and yawned, swinging his legs over the side of his bed and wincing at the cold floor.

Dressing swiftly in his training clothes, he reluctantly went about his morning routine.

Grabbing a hair tie and Mugen, he slipped out of his room and swiftly made his way to the training area. His steps were fast and his scowl pronounced as he had wasted several minutes procrastinating, childishly attempting to ward off progressing with the day.

He passed no one on his short journey, which was not surprising, as very few people other than early risers like himself were up at this hour.

Once on the training mat, he slipped his over shirt off and brought a hand up to tie his hair, sighing. For once, he was not looking forward to a rigorous training session.

Quite frankly, he was looking forward to leaving for this mission about as much as he would look forward to spending the day with Moyashi.

His scowl deepening at the mere thought of such torment, he settled into a practised, leonine stance and took a breath.

Today, his targets all had Komui and Walker's faces.

* * *

It was a resigned and sombre Kanda that left Komui's office later that morning. It had been a decidedly awkward meeting with the Supervisor, with Kanda still not having forgiven the older man for his current situation, and the Supervisor feeling particularly twitchy, not knowing if the swordsman had figured out Komui had been pulled one over on him. He figured he had not, seeing as he was still in one piece.

If Kanda had hoped to leave without anyone else being any the wiser however, he was sorely mistaken.

Attempting to slip out of the Order headquarters surreptitiously, a bag slung over one shoulder and hoping the rest of his possessions he was taking with him had been handled properly by the Finders, he paused to take one last look at the entrance hall of the Order.

He would not be returning for some time.

After a second or two, he shrugged and continued on his way, making for the doors and coming to the conclusion that he didn't actually care.

He was not so lucky as to reach them.

"Kanda!"

Without turning, his eyes closed in long suffering annoyance and a sigh escaped his lips.

"_Kanda!"_

He turned, irritation written on his face. His mood did not improve when he saw the small crowd of people making their way swiftly towards him. Clearly, it was too much to ask to simply _leave_ without having to pretend to care about any of this social bullshit.

Lavi grinned as he approached his surly comrade. He was struggling to keep up with the others pace on his crutches, but he arrived without incident. Miranda looked at him concernedly, but stayed silent and unobtrusive.

His grin widened as he saw the swordsman's expression sour. Kanda was never much for conversation, or social obligation.

"Hey Yu!" He called, mildly amused at his play on words. One glance at the Japanese exorcists rapidly darkening expression, and the muffled sound of a laugh from Allen told him that he had not been the only one to get it.

"Heard you were leaving," the redhead started, levelling a mildly admonishing look at the other man. "You weren't thinking about taking off without a goodbye, were you?"

He was fully aware that that was _exactly_ what the other had planned on doing.

Allen matched his grin.

"You're heading off to a _school_ aren't you? I pity those poor children. They'll need therapy."

"Allen." Lenalee admonished without heat, seeing her childhood friend opening his mouth, an acid retort to doubt on his tongue. She turned to Kanda with a small smile.

"Well, I'm sad you're going, especially for so long!" she frowned. "Be careful, please?"

Kanda turned his head to the side, uncomfortable. "Tch, whatever."

Lenalee took that as an affirmative and beamed. She had long learned to take responses from the misanthropic exorcist as they came.

Lavi frowned. "Wait, how long _are_ you going for? We only knew you were leaving because Komui told us when we asked. We weren't even sure you were going to a _school_ until he let that slip too."

Kanda's expression soured. Komui. Of course it was Komui. That damn Supervisor was turning out to be a real pain in his ass. It was a real shame that no one had eviscerated the man yet, and- wouldn't you know it? Kanda was fully ready to volunteer his services in that department. He really was just that generous.

"_Rokudenashi."_ He sneered under his breath, summing up his opinion of the elder Lee sibling with that single word.

"So? How long can we walk around without fear of catching your particular brand of 'asshole'?" Allen asked, gleeful at the chance to wind the other up before he left.

"A year." Kanda snarled. "I won't have to put up with you for a whole year."

"A year?" Allen grinned, eyes twinkling. "That sure is a long time. Are you sure you can handle being in constant contact with _children_ for a whole _year?_"

"I think I can handle it. After all, I've had to put up with _you." _Was the swift retort, delivered with perfect, detached sarcasm.

The white haired exorcist was about to respond, when Lavi interrupted what was sure to be a growing argument.

"Oi, Yu!" He interjected, ignoring the growl from the other. "I have note for you, from Komui. I think it's from General Tiedoll." He fished the slightly crumpled letter out of his pocket and hobbled over to his comrade, awkwardly managing with his crutches.

Kanda looked at the outstretched hand baring the letter with a certain degree of disgust, which showed on his face. He leaned back slightly as if the thing was diseased. Lavi snorted.

"Take it, my arm's getting tired."

Glaring, the swordsman snatched the letter and tore it open, not being sure whatever it was wasn't instructions to be carried out _before_ leaving the Order. Opening it on the train would have been somewhat awkward in that case, he was aware. It had better not be some sickly sweet bullshit waxing poetic about his extended departure.

He ignored the people looking interestedly at him and the letter, and perused the short note. The more he read of the few words on the page, the angrier he got.

_Kanda,_

_ Don't forget your promise._

_Good luck with your mission, my adorable student. _

_Tiedoll_

There was a pause. With a guttural snarl, he crumpled the paper in one fist.

Lavi raised an eyebrow. He supposed that wasn't a love note then. On second thought, it might have been. Kanda's reaction to a love note was probably the same as to a death threat.

The thought amused him, and he hid a smile behind his hand.

Lenalee, ever the voice of peace, intervened.

"Well, I guess this is goodbye for now." She offered with a slightly watery smile.

Kanda grunted, the note still suffering in his clenched fist. If he crushed it hard enough, maybe he could obliterate it and forget the stupid thing. Probably not.

Allen's smile was dangerously close to an uncharacteristic smirk.

"Come on Kanda, let's play catch with the conversation ball again." He wheedled, taking great joy in needling the volatile man.

"Fuck off Moyashi," He barked. "I'll shove that 'conversation ball' down your throat and watch you choke on it."

Miranda's eyes widened, unable to believe he was entirely joking.

Allen wagged a finger condescendingly, masking irritation at that hated nickname.

"Now now _Bakanda_," he said in a lecturing tone. "You can't speak to the students like that; it's _unprofessional_ for a teacher like you."

It was obvious from his tone that he found the idea of Kanda (of all people) actually _teaching_ to be both hilarious and horrifying. It appeared that the younger exorcist was not over the incident the previous week, in which the level of vitriol that had been directed at him had actually given him pause.

Said 'teacher' allowed himself a tiny, satisfied smirk.

"If we're talking about being unprofessional here Moyashi, you should be calling me _professor _now_._" He pointed out, his smirk widening minutely at the others sudden spluttering.

He readjusted the bag that was slung over his shoulder and internally winced, his arm was sore. Rolling one shoulder to ease the pain, he regarded them all coolly.

"See you all sometime next year. Longer, if I'm lucky." He snarked as a parting shot, and turned to leave.

He ignored Lenalee wishing him a safe journey, Lavi's heckles that had something to do with jailbait (he was _this_ close to punching the stupid rabbit, crutches be damned), and Miranda's soft, meek farewell.

Still ignoring them, even with the addition of Allen's yelling after him, he slipped out of the doors and proceeded to try to put as much distance between him and his comrades as he could. His golem fluttered obediently beside him, silently keeping pace.

When he was sufficiently far away, he slowed his pace and steadied his breathing. Idly, he remembered the note still clutched in his hand. Scowling at the mere thought of it and its contents, he shoved it into his pocket.

He didn't need to think of that now.

He had plenty of time to ruminate over it on the journey. The very long, very _boring_ journey.

He scowled, the cold, salty air biting at his skin and whipping at his hair.

"_Fan- fucking- tastic._"

* * *

If Kanda had been a more optimistic person, he would have decided he really was rather lucky that he was only travelling to London, as opposed to somewhere truly far flung.

As it was, however, he was not an optimist. As such, he was cursing the location of the new headquarters, as he shivered on the deck of the ferry that was making its groaning way from the island the Order had commandeered to the mainland.

Icy spray had numbed his skin, and his jaw was locked to stop his teeth from chattering. He wrapped his heavy overcoat around his shaking frame and tried to ignore the fact that the gloves on his hands were doing very little to restore the feeling in his fingers.

It was still August. It wasn't fair that it was this cold, even in the far north of Britain.

It wasn't raining yet, which was a plus. However, having lived in the country for several years now, Kanda glumly surmised that it would probably start soon.

Maybe if he lost the damned letter overboard, he could pretend it was an _accident_.

Unfortunately, not even Tiedoll was that naïve.

Cursing, he huddled further into his coat, wishing for once that he had been mistaken for a girl again so as to be able to squeeze into the cramped cabin with the female passengers instead of freezing his _ass_ off on the deck.

_Fuck. _ He really was desperate.

* * *

As relieved as he was to be off the stupid ferry (why oh why didn't the Order have their _own_ ferry?) he still wasn't particularly pleased to be sitting on a train for the foreseeable future. It grated on his nerves that he needed to be in London to pick up supplies and be escorted to the school, which was in _Scotland_, a scant four or five hours away from Headquarters. Oh no, this was clearly too easy. Instead, he internally griped, he got to spend thirteen or so hours on the train.

He sighed and shifted where he was sitting, feeling his golem twitch in his pocket. The thing was sensibly staying out of sight, and Kanda was appreciative that he didn't have trouble making one like Moyashi seemed to. Still, it was going to be a long journey. Sighing, he reached for his bag and extracted a book, one of the more interesting ones, and settled down to read for the next few hours until he had to change train.

His mind idly wandered to the school and his upcoming mission.

He'd read about it in a few of the books, and had a packet of information from the Headmaster that Komui had (after much prodding) remembered to give him.

He had read the included letter from the Deputy Headmistress and felt as though the woman seemed to be the no nonsense type, to his approval. She had taken care of the letters and equipment list that his subject would require for all those who were taking it. It was an elective course, and he understood that this meant he wouldn't have to deal with the very youngest of the brats. This, in his opinion, could only be a good thing. Currently studying students could only take his course if they dropped a previous one, and proved they could handle the level he required of them.

He had a basic outline of what he wanted his syllabus to be, but hadn't got any further in writing lesson plans. Walker had found him sitting in the library surrounded by books, attempting to plan lessons with little success. Kanda had thrown a particularly dense, substantial book at his face as an incentive to leave him alone.

He had also been briefed (and sent _another_ book on) on the upcoming 'Triwizard Tournament'.

He huffed. Typical. He _would_ arrive just as a dangerous tournament with a substantial death toll was being reintroduced.

The again, he thought, uncharacteristically looking on the bright side of his situation for once, this could provide an opportunity not to go easy on the students. They had to be prepared, of course.

A tiny, forbidding grin tugged at the corner of his mouth as he flipped a page.

Maybe it wouldn't quite as bad as he had thought.

* * *

Tom the bartender was used to many things. He was the first thing many people saw of the wizarding world, and tried to present himself accordingly, with all the joviality and welcome he could. He'd seen it all, it seemed.

With a week and a half to go before term started, the Alley was full to bursting with new students, some with terrified looking Muggle families that stood out like a sore thumb, and the academic veterans who had several years of schooling under their belt.

He was familiar with his regulars of course, and like all good barkeeps, had a good ear for gossip.

So when an out of place stranger walked into his bar, a heavy overcoat slung around their shoulders and an irritated air about them, he didn't pay them much mind and continued cleaning glasses.

The stranger passed for a moment to look around, and Tom pegged them as new -perhaps a parent? And in possibly need of directions he was only too happy to give.

He was about to call out to greet the new arrival, when said new arrival seemed to take the initiative and make a beeline for him. Tom grinned and set down his glass, looking up properly for the first time since the stranger entered his bar.

For once, he was at somewhat of a loss.

The rather foreboding individual in front of him was unusual, to say the least. Hair so dark it shone faintly blue in the light from the windows, and longer than even most women wore it framed a pale face, set in what appeared to be a perpetual glower.

Tom brushed it off. He'd seen odder.

"Can I help you?" He asked, his rehearsed line delivered in perfect form.

He was speared with a sharp glance, but weathered through it with an undaunted smile.

"Yes." He visitor responded and Tom almost breathed a sigh of relief that his voice clearly identified as male. "I need to get into the Alley."

Tom nodded, his smile not slipping. It was a generic enough request that told him a thing or two about this mysterious visitor. He was either a foreign wizard, which was entirely possible, a squib or a Muggle parent looking for errant children. The latter seemed improbable, somehow.

He slipped out from behind the bar, noting the stranger had a few inches on him.

"Of course sir." He gestured for the other to follow. "What brings you to our little corner of England, if you don't mind me asking?" he inquired conversationally.

The stranger grunted. "Work."

His short answer was intriguing. Something clicked in Tom's head. "You don't happen to be the new diplomat at the ministry do you? I had a few of my regulars talking about it."

He heard a snort from his left, indicating the stranger found something to be amusing.

"I'm not a diplomat, no. I'm a … teacher."

Tom didn't miss the slight pause, and the faint inflection of antipathy he attached to his title, but made no comment on it.

"Hogwarts then?" he asked, leading them out from the back room into the courtyard behind the pub. "New Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher I assume? Good luck there, position's cursed I tell you."

He withdrew his wand and tapped the corresponding bricks with it, aware of the others eyes following his movements.

"Not Dark Arts, Physical Education and Self Defence." Came the curt reply as the bricks shifted. Tom turned to see the strangers eyes following the impossibility before him with interest, but no concern.

"A new course? Well, I wish you luck all the same. A grand old school, Hogwarts is."

The wall finished its display, revealing the vibrant Alley beyond. Sounds and sights, blocked from view previously, rolled into the drab courtyard and filled it with life.

"There you go!" Tom stated cheerfully. "Do you need anything else sir? I have maps, if you want one."

His response was a raised eyebrow, so he forged ahead, fishing one of the aforementioned leaflets from his apron. He held it out and the stranger extended a gloved hand to accept it, offering a slight murmur that he assumed was in thanks.

"Right, well. If you need to get back, there's a lever on the other side. You can't miss it." The barkeeper advised.

With that, he turned to leave, needing to attend to his customers.

The stranger had been interesting, but the memory slipped from his mind as he returned to the bustle of his bar.

* * *

One hand holding the map, and the other gripping the bag slung over his shoulder, Kanda stared at the entrance to the Alley. This was _not _what he had expected.

It all looked so _happy._

It made him wish he's stayed in the somewhat dingy bar and downed several drinks before attempting this. With a sigh, he made to stride forward, masking his worry that the stepping into this rainbow bright street would have some sort of negative repercussion.

He had a few days to familiarise and immerse himself in wizarding culture before he was to meet his 'escort'.

As he walked through the Alley, trying to see all he could, he decided that it was a good job he wasn't required to stay for long.

He paused and unfolded the leaflet the barkeep had given him. It wasn't only a map, it was an information booklet. Kanda raised an eyebrow. Convenient.

Spotting a place on the map that appeared to be an information centre, he made a beeline for it. Might as well start now, he reasoned.

As he dodged around a group of laughing children, followed by their fondly smiling parents who trailed them into a vibrantly purple store that appeared to be selling animals of all shapes and sizes, he felt his eyebrow twitch.

Their laughter mingled with the general air of cheerful business and jovial chatter and his look darkened.

Maybe his first port of call _should_ have been the pub.

* * *

It was getting dark by the time Kanda decided to call it a day exploring Diagon Alley. Against his better judgement, he had braved the cheerfulness of the shopping street completely sober, and had not regretted it as much as he had thought he would.

Oh, he was still barely holding back the impulse to eviscerate someone or something, but hat urge had been tempered by the sheer wonder of the magical realm.

Had anyone been aware of the situation, they would have felt immeasurably proud that their small slice of culture had managed to inspire wonder in someone as ill-tempered as the sword wielding exorcist. As it was, however, no one was aware, and thus no one was able to be proud of the achievement.

It was with heavy, tired steps that aforementioned swordsman traipsed back in the direction of the pub he had first entered. It provided rooms, as did other establishments, but he decided to stick with what he knew.

The type of crowd that lingered in the darkening streets had changed from the early afternoon when he had first entered. The excitable children and their harried parents had gone, with only a few older students lasting out until dark. They had been replaced with men and women of a different sort, drifting into restaurants and eateries and who would, undoubtedly end up at a bar or pub later on that evening.

Kanda paid them no mind as he pulled the lever to let him exit the Alley and slipped through the archway into the back yard of the Leaky Cauldron.

He had left it a bit late for look for accommodation, he supposed, and hoped he wouldn't have to look anywhere else.

As it was however, he needn't have worried.

"Hello again!" the barkeeper greeted him jovially, stowing some pint glasses behind the bar and smiling. "You looking for a drink, food, a room?"

The dark haired exorcist blinked and, somewhat surprised he was remembered, replied. "All of the above, preferably."

Tom grinned.

"Certainly, it's a Galleon and two Sickles a night. How long would you like the room for sir?"

Tom seemed all too happy to take his money, so the exorcist shrugged and decided he didn't dislike the polite barkeeper.

"Four days." He said curtly, reaching for his wallet and thankful he'd had the foresight to have some money exchanged.

Tom grinned a gapped, viscid smile. "That will be four Galleons and eight Sickles for your room sir. Do you require a maid, a wake-up call?"

"No." was the curt reply, as the younger dropped the requested amount into the wrinkled palm.

Tom secreted the money away in his rickety till, and fished out a small key attached to a polished piece of wood with a number burned onto the faded surface.

"Wonderful, can I take a name?" he asked, producing a pen and hovering it, poised above his hefty ledger.

The exorcists mouth thinned but he was aware it was expected for him to give him name.

"Kanda."

Tom raised a bushy, pale eyebrow at the singular name, but didn't pry. It wasn't his job to meddle. The name – and the man it belonged to- was uncommon enough so that he would remember it even without further identification.

"Thank you sir, if you will follow me to your room?"

Tom gave a small, creaky bow to his customer before straightening as best he could and leading the other man towards the stairs and towards his room.

Kanda dismissed the barkeeper with barely a nod to show his thanks and to display his understanding when Tom informed him that he could procure food and drink at the bar.

Shutting the door after the retreating man, he put the latch on and breathed a sigh of contentment. Blissful quiet.

Dropping his bag haphazardly on the floor near the bed, he went to the window and looked out; seeing the sun had already disappeared behind the horizon, leaving the last of its light to rapidly give way to the encroaching darkness.

He sighed and rolled his shoulders, attempting to rid himself of their stiffness. He was tired and felt grimy from the extended journey, as well as uncomfortable from his sleep on the train.

Noticing a small door to the left of the bed, he curiously peered inside and found, to his pleasure, a bathroom.

A hot shower would calm his nerves and get rid of the travel stupor, he was sure.

He paused when he heard his stomach protest. _Loudly_.

Scowling, he ignored his body's rather vocal call for sustenance and removed his overcoat, slinging it across the bed carelessly before disappearing into the bathroom.

Shower first, then food. Food could wait.

He wasn't Moyashi, after all.

* * *

It was uncomfortably busy, Kanda realised when he reappeared a while later, feeling much refreshed.

With a downward turn of his mouth set fast, he found himself a dark corner away from the crowd. This was, unfortunately, also away from the fire, but it was a small price to pay for relative peace.

He watched the serving girls scurry around, taking orders from patrons and delivering them with equal speed.

One of them curiously approached him, head cocked and nervous like a mouse.

"Ma'am?" she inquired uncertainly, a little wary if the shadowy figure in the corner, swathed in dark fabric. "C-can I get you anything?"

Steel grey eyes narrowed and he watched with no little vindictive pleasure as the mousy girl began to fidget and wilt underneath the blades edge stare.

"Pint of bitter." He ordered, his tone clipped and not a little hostile. That spiteful feeling intensified when the girl gasped and froze, looking mortified.

He supposed he should be grateful that his voice, at least, was not particularly feminine and could not be mistaken as such. As it was however, Kanda was not an overly grateful individual, and was fully prepared to be as bitter as he possibly could. He was, so far, doing a remarkable job of it.

"Y-yes, sir!" the pitiful little thing stuttered, her skin flushed an unattractive crimson. Maybe now he was just nitpicking. Probably. "A-anything else sir?"

Crisply rattling off what he wanted, he dispassionately watched the girl scurry away as fast as her legs could take her, still mortified and blushing.

He retreated into the gloom, scowl adorning his face and irritably brushing an errant strand of hair from his eyes.

The long haired swordsman waited for several minutes, idly watching the patrons of the pub go about their business. Such business involved much drinking and, as the evening had worn on, raucous laughter.

"Pint of bitter for you sir?"

He looked up, not having heard the person approach with the noise of the patrons drowning out softer noises. He noted with some sort of malicious satisfaction that the girl in front of him was not the same who had fled earlier. She was younger, possibly a year of so younger than Lenalee and Walker, if he was to take a guess. She was probably working part time for the summer. The girl grinned at him as she held the tankard in one hand and a bowl of soup in the other.

"Calliope is mortified, you know." She said suddenly, as she placed the glass and bowl down with care, before straightening. "She's hiding."

He raised an eyebrow, noting the girl seemed amused.

"And I would care, why?" he replied, snark dripping from his tone.

She blinked, somewhat taken aback.

"Don't suppose you would. I just thought you might like to know why your waitress changed. Some folk are finicky like that." She shrugged. "Anything else I can get for you sir?"

Snorting softly and inclining his head, he replied in the negative.

"Oh." She seemed a little disappointed. With a certain level of awkwardness, she left, throwing a quick look over her shoulder as she did so.

Feeling oddly fortunate she wasn't bothering to stay and chat, he pulled his food towards him. It was surprisingly good, and he mentally made a note to find a way of getting Jerry to make it for him back at Headquarters.

"Hi there, finished?"

The girl was back. How utterly delightful.

As she cleared away the detritus on the table, she had small smile playing about her lips. She stood, and there was a pause. He dearly hoped she wasn't going to attempt to start a conversation

"My name's Alicia, by the way. Alicia Spinnet."

Fan-tucking-fastic.

"How _wonderful_ for you."

She flushed but forged on.

"Are you new here? I've not seen you in the Cauldron before." She asked, cocking her head to the side.

The Exorcist sighed.

"Yes."

She beamed. Her cheerfulness was beginning (really meaning it had begun long ago) to get on his nerves.

"Cool!" she exclaimed, practically glowing. "I work here during the summer and I haven't seen you before, so I figured." She smiled coquettishly, seemingly emboldened by- something. He wasn't entirely sure what.

He leaned back in his chair, hoping putting some distance between himself and the girl would give her the impression he didn't care about what she was talking about. He just wanted to leave and then sleep dammit, why couldn't he just have that much? Lifting his half empty glass with a hand, he took a draught, rather hoping that the alcohol would help his nerves.

The girl –Alicia- grinned again and continued to talk. Wonderful.

"Yeah, so, I guess you're staying for a few days. Tom mentioned someone that sounded like you took room six, and I guess that's you." She looked up through her eyelashes. "I uh, was wondering, if you wanted some company. You know, once my shift's finished?"

Her offer was accompanied by a faint flush on her tan cheeks, and she appeared to be unable to supress her hopeful smile.

He gritted his teeth.

"Listen girl, I don't really want company. Stop bothering me." He delivered his refusal flatly.

She looked crestfallen.

"Oh, right." Then she brightened and he almost swore. "Maybe later then? I'll be here for another week yet and-"

He allowed a sneer to curl his lip.

"No thanks. You're really not my type." His words were sarcastic and biting. She frowned.

"What, black?" she asked roughly, her smile turning into a scowl.

What was she talking about? Hadn't she noticed _he_ was from an ethnic minority too? Why on earth did she think he would _care?_ Stupid girl, he thought viciously.

He scoffed.

"No," he bit out, "barely legal."

With her startled and insulted gasp following him, he stood and swept from the crowded room, parting patrons like the red sea with his forbidding aura.

So maybe he'd crushed a young girls heart in his hand.

He mentally shrugged.

He had _said_ he hadn't wanted company.

* * *

_Oh look, Kanda is still a dick._

_Who would have guessed?_

_On chapter two and we're still not at Hogwarts yet. We might get there by chapter three. Maybe. _

_Still, do give me feedback, positive or negative. It helps me keep my focus, and spot errors and stuff._

_Also, Happy Christmas if I don't update before then. Which I probably won't. You never know though._

_Happy Holidays, if I need to be PC._

_Hope you have a good one._


	3. Chapter 3

_Disclaimer: _I do not own D. Grey-Man, Harry Potter or any of their affiliates. Anything that you recognise is property of their respective owners. Any relations to persons living or dead are purely coincidental.

_Base/s:_ D. Grey-Man and Harry Potter

_Title:_ Mercurial

_Summary:_ Kanda does not like people. He likes children even less. Regrettably for the irritable swordsman, his fellow Exorcists are indisposed and the duty of researching a magic school falls to him. How unfortunate. Rated Teen for language because Kanda.

_Music:_

* * *

Kanda had been under the impression that wizards were weird.

He could say now, that he had been completely, utterly and unequivocally right.

They weren't just weird, they were batshit insane.

Every last one of them.

Honestly, he thought as he walked briskly down the quaint cobbles of Diagon Alley, who needed a fire breathing, floating tortoise? Why would you even _create_ something like that?

Baffled and not a little weary, he banished this latest oddity from his mind and continued his walk.

It had been only three days since he had arrived, and he was rather glad he was set to leave the next day. As interesting as the Alley was (and even he couldn't deny _that)_, he didn't think he could take much more of this inane insanity without developing a severe drinking problem.

There was one thing that worried him. He was getting _used_ to this silliness.

Only today, he had not batted an eyelid at the sight of a woman with what appeared to be snakes for hair, and merely abruptly declined a buy one get one free offer on unicorn tail hair.

This bothered him somewhat.

He had picked up several interesting things from the shops in the Alley, and had learned a great deal. Most of it, in his opinion, was useless trivia, but he recorded it in a small notebook he had bought for this purpose, not trusting his memory to retain the huge influx of information he was required to keep.

Currently, he was on the way to the shadier part of the wizarding high street. He had been there earlier in his stay, and found it markedly more interesting than the brighter, friendlier Alley.

For one, people left each other alone for the most part, which suited him just fine. Individuals draped in dark cloth went about their business, cloaks fluttering at their heels. Beggars sat on porches and beseeching hands grasped at those walking by. Street vendors of a very different sort to those in Diagon hawked their wares with aggressive fervour, selling everything from simple trinkets to less than legal potions ingredients. He knew that by night, the vendors would have disappeared, to be replaced by scantily clad women who would gather on grimy street corners and giggle enticingly from behind worn, faded fans.

Currently, he thought as he swiftly made the turn off for Knockturn, he was looking for something appropriately horrible to send back to Komui under the guise of 'research'. Giant spiders eyes perhaps, or maybe some kelpie bile? Both options were tempting, but he would scour the dark Alley some more in case he stumbled across something truly repulsive. Possibly something cursed…?

Brushing past cloaked and hooded figures, he pulled his own uniform coat around him and blended in well enough that he was not overly bothered. The vendors clamoured for his attention as they did others, but he deftly ignored them. He kept a careful eye out for pickpockets, in case he was called upon to break some fingers, but was otherwise relaxed.

Spotting a shop he had yet to peruse, he made a beeline for it, pushing past a group of sellers who appeared to be hawking some sort of foul brown potion.

Opening the door, he slipped inside.

It was a jarring change, inside the shop. He had gone from the bustle and noise of Knocturn Alley to an oppressive, heavy silence that hung like fog. The air was dusty and stale.

Padding further in, his senses –and interest- piqued, he set his gaze on the shop interior before him. Faded brown paper lined the walls, and shelves stacked with dingy items covered the majority of the space. Disturbing masks hung from the walls, their cruel, contorted faces mocking and tortured. He noticed row of glass cases nearby, one of which held a shrivelled human hand. Upon closer inspection, he noted that there was a bloodstained deck of cards that looked very old, as did the blood which was brown and dusty. A single glass eye stared unnervingly at him from a jar on a small, spindly table, it's unnaturally coloured iris glowing faintly in the gloom.

Venturing further, he ducked his head to avoid rusted, spiked instruments that hung precariously from the ceiling, their use unknown, but certainly not pleasant.

He smirked.

Perhaps Moyashi would appreciate a new deck of cards for Christmas?

"Can I _help_ you?"

Resisting the impulse to jump, he turned slightly and came face to face with who he assumed to be the proprietor. The small, shrewd man was looking at him with mixed levels of curiosity and distain. The name on the small, faded tag he wore read '_Borgin'_.

Turning fully, the swordsman looked down at the other man.

"You may." He replied curtly, "I am looking for something that would make a good gift."

The shopkeeper's expression grew uninterested.

"I suggest if you are looking for trinkets of a giftworthy nature, you go elsewhere." Borgin sneered. "Pretty little boys should stay where it's safe."

Kanda let his own sneer twist his lips and he regarded the weasel like man with contempt.

"It is a wonder you are still in business, if you tell your customers to leave." He remarked sharply. "I would advise you hold your tongue, before someone has the pleasure of ripping it out."

Borgin merely raised an eyebrow.

"My business is of no concern of yours, I assure you." He retorted, his lips curling over broken teeth.

Borgin let his eyes assess the stranger who had entered his shop. His first instinct was to laugh, as it was always amusing when pretty little strangers wandered into the Alley on their own and tried to make their way. His second impulse was to be on his guard. This man was not threatened by him at all, nor his shop and the macabre items on display. His threat was delivered with nothing but surety, and he was either a very good actor, or honestly unperturbed with the notion.

He narrowed his eyes when the stranger began to speak again, flinty eyes boring into his own.

"No? Then I'll leave you to your hovel and take my money somewhere else."

Borgin almost cursed out loud. It was a threat he got often, but unfortunately, one that gave him pause. His business was good, since save the trinket stalls outside, his was the only shop that sold the items he did. However, it had been lagging as of late with a recent crackdown by the ministry on the trade of illegal goods. It was merely more than political rhetoric and the drafting of a few new Acts to assuage the public call for action, but its impact was still felt.

He needed the money.

Swallowing his pride, he called out to the retreating stranger.

"Wait." He gritted his teeth. "Please accept my… apologies."

Kanda turned once again, a small upturn to his lips the only tell of his amusement.

"So the man _can_ act like a shopkeeper." He remarked snidely, and took pleasure in the way the man's face turned puce.

Borgin ignored the remark with bad grace, but straightened his posture as much he could in order to regain his dignity.

"Very well _sir._" He bit out. "What were you looking for today?"

Idly casting his eyes over the macabre displays, the swordsman was silent for a moment before replying.

"A gift."

Borgin gritted yellowed, broken teeth.

"As I said before _sir_, we are not an establishment that caters for-"

To the shopkeeper's annoyance, he was cut off.

"I never said the recipient would _appreciate_ the gift." There was a disturbing expression on the youngers normally stoic face, one that spoke of a hint of malicious pleasure.

Borgin was struck with realisation, and subsequently felt rather stupid.

"Ah." Was his delicate response. "Well sir, I think I can find something to your liking." Casting an arm aside to indicate an object in a heavy glass case, he watched as his patrons eyes slid over it. "This fine specimen has claimed the lives of nineteen Muggles to date!" He grinned nastily. "Death is almost instantaneous to those who touch it with their bare skin! And at a most favourable price…"

Kanda was unimpressed.

On the outside, that is. On the inside, he was mildly disturbed that someone would put time and effort into making something so dangerous, only to let it end up in some two bit pawn shop in the wrong side of town.

Also about the instant death thing. And the nineteen people who had been horribly killed by the piece of jewellery. But mostly the first bit.

He crossed his arms.

"While that's great and all, I'm looking for something a little bit less… lethal." He ventured.

Borgin frowned, as though he couldn't quite fathom why someone would want an object that _wouldn't_ kill people instantly and painfully.

"We have a deck of cards that will melt the skin of any who touch them?"

A shake of the head.

"I want something horrible, but no grievous wounding, death or mutilation. If I want any of that, I'll do it myself."

Borgin raised an eyebrow, but shrugged. He looked around, floundering slightly.

His face lit up.

"If you will wait here sir, I think I have the perfect thing."

Without waiting for an answer, he scurried into the back of the shop and disappeared.

Kanda, somewhat nonplussed, raised an eyebrow.

Well alright then.

He waited for Borgin to reappear.

… were those _human_ bones?

Before he could take a closer look at the five point star made up of human bones (that humerus in particular looked like it had been through the wars), the shopkeeper reappeared from the gloomy back room, a small tray clasped in gnarled hands.

Borgin set it down on the counter, and the swordsman drifted forward to get a closer look.

With much pomp and bombast, the shopkeeper lifted the cloth and waited for the reaction from his customer with a sure glint in his shrewd eyes.

Kanda blinked.

Knowing better than to stretch out a hand and touch the small talisman, he peered at it from a safe distance.

Borgin took this as an opportunity to explain and did so with great relish.

"An interesting piece, it's somewhat less dark than what we usually stock, but I kept it in the back in case I needed to fill a space. It will, with skin contact, make their hair fall out. The process is mildly painful, I am told, though easily reversible." Borgin shrugged. "I was under the impression when I bought it, that it scalped the victim, but it appears I was mistaken."

A tiny, malicious grin worming its way onto his face, the Exorcist's mind was awash with imagery of a bald Walker, remembering vividly the argument they had had in the Ark some time ago.

"No permanent damage?" he questioned, interested.

Borgin looked morose at the thought.

"No. It is more of a prank item really, only classified otherwise because it causes pain." he replied, trying to contain his excitement at the others obvious interest.

Kanda reached for his wallet, a nasty glint in his eyes.

"I'll take it."

* * *

Stepping from the porch of Borgin and Burkes with his pockets a little heavier, and his wallet a little lighter, Kanda could have honestly said he was in a good mood.

Schadenfreude was a powerful force, it seemed.

He was attracting a few more looks than he had previously, having made the decision to leave his overcoat in his room at the inn due to the warmth of the day, and venture out in only his uniform and Exorcist coat.

He was left alone however, having previously broken the fingers of a pickpocket who thought the long haired swordsman was not as deserving of his money as he could be.

They did not attempt to steal from him again.

Realising he still had not acquired something for Komui to study that was particularly horrid, he decided to venture further into the gloomy alley in case he stumbled across something suitably nauseating to send back to the Supervisor.

It was all in name of Komui's precious science, of course.

With an uncharacteristically light step - not that many could tell it from his usual prowl - he went further into the shady Alley, his spirits as high as they ever got.

Come to a crooked crossroads, the breeze catching his coat and hair and lifting the scent of yeast and alcohol to his nose from the dingy pub close by, he paused, deciding where to head.

As he did so, there was the sound of a scuffle and frantic feet slapping against stone pavement slabs. The dull murmur of Knockturn did not mask the sounds of a person running, the sound echoing off the labyrinthine passages.

Turning as the sound got louder, Kanda was met with the sight of a young teen, dressed not in robes, but in regular 'Muggle' clothes. He was panting, a wide eyed, panicked look twisting his face which was crimson from exertion.

He seemed to notice he had gained the attention of the denizens of the Alley, who were not particularly friendly at the best of times, and were as good as sharks at sensing weakness.

"Help…" he managed to mumble to no-one in particular, backing up as far as he could, his eyes popping and frantic. His clothing was rumpled, and he was panting like a dog.

Kanda sighed.

He had been having such a good day too.

Casting a judgemental eye over the whimpering teen, he rolled his eyes and made to walk away, leaving the stupid child to his fate.

He heard a hag cackle as she drew closer to the boy, her long, splintered fingernails reaching for him. Her sister creature screeched her appreciation, cracked lips pulling back to reveal yellowed, broken teeth.

The whispers intensified, and so did the shouts for help.

The boy was crying.

Kanda had made it only a few steps before he clenched his fist and let out a guttural curse.

"Fuck's sake." He snarled, turning on his heel and marching back to where the cries were getting fainter and the jeering echoed off the scrubbed walls.

Roughly shouldering his way through the shadowy crowd, he broke through the line and grabbed the snivelling teen by his wrist.

The boy yelped and struggled, but the swordsman was not budging.

In the teen's defence, the Exorcists angry visage was not something many, if any, would be comforted by.

"Shut _up_ you snivelling twit!" The barked order was harsh, overriding cries to be released, and angry muttering from a crowd denied their entertainment. Or ingredients. Kanda wasn't sure. It might have been both. The boy looked up from where he had been tugging at the vice grip on his arm with wide, petrified eyes.

Kanda tugged the boy to his feet with little care, ignoring the cry of pain. He turned to 'escort' the child out of the Alley, when he was faced with a less than impressed crowd.

The two sister Hags screeched their displeasure, and the mutters grew angry.

The Exorcist glowered.

"Get the _fuck_ out of my way." He growled, one hand still clasped around the child's wrist and the other fingering the hilt of Mugen.

They shuffled uneasily, but did not move aside. One of the Hags flexed her spidery hands.

"Didn't fancy you as the type to save little fools, not after what you did to Dionysus. Poor little fingers, all broken like wheat. Do we get to play with you too, little pretty?" she taunted, her voice harsh and grating.

With a dark look that promised violence, he used his thumb to partially unsheathe Mugen, the crimson blade catching the weak light ominously. The noise of metal against the oiled, polished wood of the sheath was threatening.

"Move _Hag_, or the only thing you'll be 'playing' with is your own blood."

She held his steely gaze for a moment before hissing like an angry alley cat and moving reluctantly aside.

Deftly re-sheathing his blade, the swordsman looked daggers at the other Hag until she too moved away.

Grudgingly, the assembled denizens if the Alley parted as if recognising the dangerousness of the person they were blocking.

With a grunt, Kanda crudely pushed through them, dragging the still struggling teen behind him.

"_Move it, you little shit_." Kanda muttered under his breath as the boy continued to resist futilely against his vice grip.

Working his way through various passages and gloomy backways, they finally emerged on the main street of Knockturn Alley. It was a way in, but a small chink of light could be seen that pointed the way to Diagon. The buzz of chatter from the high street was muted, but provided a tangible, comforting presence.

Finally letting go of the boy, who had at some point stopped struggling against him, he crossed his arms and regarded the child with an impassive stare.

The young teen stared back at him, frightened and jittery like a fawn.

"What the _hell_ were you doing down there?" The swordsman questioned roughly.

The boy appeared to calm slightly, large brown eyes receding into what could have passed for normal when he realised that he had not gone from the frying pan into the fire.

"I-I-I was…" he stuttered, clearly still afraid of the imposing Exorcist. "I w-was taking a shortcut and I g-got lost."

The child was so pathetic, Kanda wondered if it was contagious. Resisting the urge to smack a palm into his forehead, he sighed.

"Kid, you're an idiot." He said flatly, feeling no small measure of satisfaction when the boy winced. "Look, where are your parents?"

The boy's tear stained face lit up, and Kanda felt a flood of relief. He could dump the kid on his likely frantic parents and leave before he caught the idiocy that must have been some sort of epidemic.

"They're in Diagon! My younger brother's starting Hogwarts too this year so they are doing the whole 'initiation tour' thing while I went to Gringott's to get some money exchanged. I-I was on my way back when…" he trailed off, looking uncomfortable and embarrassed.

Kanda pinched the bridge of his nose.

"I'll take you to the Cauldron, you can do whatever you want from there." He stated, leaving no room for argument.

The boy nodded shyly.

"Thank you, by the way." He started. "I mean it. I think they were going to do something horrible to me."

"They probably were." Kanda provided bluntly, striding towards the entrance to Diagon, not bothering to slow his step when the boy had to almost job to keep up with him. "Those were Hags, I think."

His temporary (thank _god)_ companion nodded eagerly, his mousy brown hair flopping about his head. He seemed to have forgotten his earlier fear of the Exorcist, and was settling down into his newfound cheer much to Kanda's displeasure.

"They were! We did them last year in Defence." He grinned up at the swordsman, causing Kanda's expression to sour. "My name's Colin, by the way."

Kanda grunted, not bothering to give a real reply as they passed form the oppressive gloom into the clear, watery sunlight of Diagon Alley.

"What's _your_ name?"

Before Kanda could either grunt at him again, or actually answer (unlikely), the duo were met with a sound he was sure could only be heard by dogs.

Having realised he had just insulted himself and resolving to wipe the last ten seconds from his memory, he turned to the source of the noise.

He heard Colin gasp from beside him and dart out from his shadow.

A middle aged woman was running towards them with an expression of horror and utter relief on her face, before embracing Colin who did not resist. Kanda assumed her to be his mother, although the child's cheerful presence had him not caring if she was a slaver.

A similarly aged man with a receding hairline hurried behind her, mirroring her expression and had his hand on the shoulder of a younger boy.

The mother was fussing over Colin like only a worried parent could, and Kanda turned away, disinterested with the family reunion any other would have been heart warmed to see.

He turned to leave when Colin's voice stopped him. Inwardly, he groaned. Why did this keep happening to him?

"And then_ he_ saved me!"

The mother looked up and stared at him. Had he been a little less used to the stares of the general populace, he might have fidgeted. As it was however, he only felt mildly uncomfortable.

"And you are?" she asked, her face suspicious but at the same time grateful. It was an odd combination.

He sighed.

"Kanda." He said shortly. "Tell your kid not to be so stupid next time. Knockturn Alley is _not_ a place for children."

Shit, now he sounded like a sap.

She appeared taken aback by his manner, but swallowed and replied with courtesy nonetheless.

"Well, thank you Mister Kanda." She smiled, expression melting somewhat. Behind her, her husband had ruffled his sons hair. "I cannot thank you enough, we're- we're not magical you see." She shuffled, embarrassed. "I don't know what we would have done had you not found him."

"Buried him most likely." He scoffed, turning to the boy. "Don't play with Hags again unless you _want_ to end up being sold as potion ingredients."

The father interjected before his frowning wife could say something more.

"Thanks again then. Didn't think there would be a decent soul in that wretched place!" he grinned. "I'm glad I was wrong."

A 'decent soul'? Kanda thought differently, as did most of the Order, but he digressed.

"Whatever. Don't count on it happening again."

They were interrupted, this time by the younger boy who had been in furious conversation with his brother while the adults had been talking.

"Woah, Colin says you have a _sword_!" he exclaimed, eyes huge and shining.

Colin nodded furiously.

"Yeah, it was so _cool!_ He was all like 'get out of my way or I'll slice you up' and then they _did_ and it was scary cause I thought he was going to kill me too but he didn't and it was so _cool_!" he paused for breath. Kanda felt his eyebrow twitch. He was uncomfortably aware that both parents were looking at him and Mugen with interest. The fan worship from the younger two was not something he appreciated either.

"I sincerely hope neither of you is in my class." He mumbled under his breath, meaning it to be heard by his ears only. Sadly, this was not to be.

"Class?" the mother interjected interestedly, peering at him. He scowled.

"Yes." He sighed. "I am a… teacher. I will be teaching at Hogwarts this year."

Colin gasped in awe.

"You _will?!_"

"Aren't you a little… young to be teaching?" the father interjected, shifting awkwardly when the flinty gaze was turned on him.

"No." was the flat response, knocking the other off balance somewhat.

"_Martin_." The wife hissed, elbowing her husband before turning a much more polite smile on the Exorcist. "What will you be teaching, if you don't mind my asking?"

"Physical Education and Self Defence." He rattled off dutifully, really wishing he could just _leave _now. He had the overwhelming urge to stab himself when he heard Colin exclaim that '_he_ was taking that course!'.

The father let out a barking laugh.

"So that sword isn't for show then!" he exclaimed, grinning.

Kanda felt his lips curl.

"No, it is not. I can assure you, I am well versed in its use." He shot back, unsmiling.

With that not so gentle rebuke, he inclined his head the bare minimum and made to leave. This social stuff was hard.

Before he did so, he paused and half turned to address the family again. His gaze settled on Colin, who seemed to still be in a daze.

"I would suggest putting up a better performance in my classes than I saw today boy, else I might just end up failing you."

Ignoring Colin and his brothers excited exclamations and vows to be the 'very best ever', he disappeared back into the gloom of Knockturn Alley. He was not going to be very popular in there at the moment, but felt that if the Hags made good on their threat, he would make good on his.

He'd done his good deed for the year; he felt he was entitled to some slack where morality was concerned.

* * *

It was getting late by the time he stepped out of a suspiciously clean and cheerful shop run by a pretty witch who was almost obnoxiously happy to be selling her wares in Knockturn Alley. He grimaced, catching the scent of yeast and the babble of raucous voices from the pub across the dimly lit street.

The dark looks and whispers that followed him would have been unnerving had their perpetrators not flinched when he snarled at them for getting too close.

Most of the street merchants had disappeared, or were in the process of packing up their stalls as he strode through the dingy, cobbled street.

Scantily clad women had begun to appear on street corners, clustered together and hiding giggling faces behind faded, lacy fans. They beckoned enticingly, their dresses barely scraps of silk and lace.

He pushed past them absently, unheeding of their sultry, pouting offers and inviting gestures.

Spotting the exit onto the more cheerful Alley, he made a beeline for it. He would retire to the Cauldron for the evening with a hot meal and a glass of beer or two. Although, he considered idly as he swept around a corner, they did have a very nice selection of spirits he hadn't tried yet…

* * *

Minerva McGonagall was a woman who stood on correctness.

She was prim, proper and stonily polite.

So when she appeared with an echoing crack in the courtyard of the Leaky Cauldron and began to make her way into the alley, she was already preparing herself for the meeting she was heading to.

Green robes sweeping the cobbled street, she inclined her head to those who greeted her in passing. Idly, she wondered what this 'Kanda Yuu' would be like. She had been told by the Headmaster that she would meet him at exactly ten in the morning, outside Gringotts bank.

Spotting said building in the distance, she unconsciously quickened her pace.

The Alley was bustling with people, students and parents alike streaming in and out of shops, mingling with the Alleys usual crowd and chattering happily as they shopped.

Slipping past a large man and his equally large partner, she slowed and began casting her eye across the sea of people for the flash of black, gold and crimson she had been told to look out for.

She came to a halt, pulled out her pocket watch from one voluminous pocket and checked the time. Three minutes to.

Stowing her watch away, she settled to wait for a little while, her thoughts drifting.

She was mildly annoyed with Albus, who had asked her to undertake this task despite knowing she was overworked as it was. Not only did she have to juggle responsibilities as Deputy Headmistress and head of house, but she was also feeling the strain of added work from the upcoming Triwizard Tournament. She could only hope that this new teacher would alleviate some stress, rather than add to it.

She had barely finished the thought when she caught a flash of dark colours out of the corner of her eye. The sea of people was noticeably thinner around the imposing bank, and she zeroed in on her possible lead. She let a frown work its way onto her face. Too far away.

Straightening her robes and striding purposefully across the cobbles, she parted passers-by with nary a thought.

As she drew closer, she frowned once again.

A dark figure was leaning against the wall of the bank nonchalantly, a small case resting by their feet. Swathed in dark fabric trimmed with crimson and the occasional flash of gold, the uniform fit the description she was given. The figures back was to her, and she caught sight of long hair, longer than even most women wore it, was pulled back into a long tail that fell down their back.

She cleared her throat.

"Excuse me?" she cut in, and the figure turned.

Cold grey eyes regarded her with detached interest, and one eyebrow was raised in askance.

"May I _help_ you?" was the response, and she was mildly surprised as the unmistakable masculine inflection of the voice.

Somewhat taken aback by the hostile tone that was directed at her, she steeled her expression.

"Indeed." She replied, prim and stonily polite. "My name is Minerva McGongall, Deputy Headmistress of Hogwarts. You, I assume, are 'Kanda Yuu'?"

The now identified young man in front of her uncrossed his arms and straightened his posture. There was a slight flicker of distaste on his face that disappeared as soon as it had come.

"Yes." He replied with a curt nod. "_Just_ Kanda, of you please."

She hadn't been planning on addressing him by his first name anyway.

"Good." She held out a hand in greeting, mildly surprised when he took it. His grip was strong, she noted, as though he was unused to regulating his grip when shaking hands. A small thought occurred to her, he was clearly of Asian descent, so perhaps was not used to shaking hands as a greeting? She resolved to look into that further, it would not do to be unaware of another's culture. "If you will follow me, I will escort you to the floo and we can be on our way."

He did not answer verbally, merely giving a sharp nod of the head and picking up the small, slightly battered case.

He fell into step beside her, she noted, not trailing behind like a lost puppy.

She approved. She did not know enough yet to pass judgement, as they had only just met, but she was beginning to paint a picture of the quiet young man in her head.

Out of the corner of her eyes, she noticed him slow his pace in order to not overtake her. Long, purposeful strides told her that he was someone who was used to either walking alone or leading, not being led.

Interesting.

The two of them walked in silence through the Alley, weaving in and out of shoppers.

A thought occurred to Minerva.

"Mister-" she began, but cut herself off. "_Kanda._" She corrected, and he made an approving sound in the back of his throat, not looking at her. She ignored it. "You have planned your course outline, correct?"

He grunted his approval.

Ignoring this save for a slight thinning of the lips, she responded.

"Good. I have sent out your equipment list with the rest of the letters, and I have your register lists to give to you when we arrive. The students will arrive on September the first, which is in exactly four days. I suggest you customise your classroom and living quarters to your own tastes before then. Is there anything you wish to ask before we get to Hogwarts?"

"No." was the curt reply. Minerva was about to speak before she was cut off. He cocked his head to one side slightly. "Not unless you have a way to permanently silence the Creevey brothers."

She blinked, not having expected humour from the dour man.

A thin smile spread across her lips.

"You've had the honour of meeting them then I take it?" At his jerk of the head, she continued. "At least _you_ don't have to teach both of them."

He grunted again, and she thought she could see the barest hint of a smile twisting his lips.

She held out an arm to guide him into the floo office, feeling the waft of hot, ashy air hit her as she entered. The floo office was deceptively large, betraying its small shop front.

She caught herself assessing his form as he stepped into the shop ahead of her. Tall and slender like a willow, long hair trailing down his back and a face that would not have looked out of place on a beautiful woman. Frankly, he did not look like he fitted with the picture of the hardline, military organisation that hunted demons for a living. His manner though, was another thing entirely. Hostile, abrasive and scathing, she could picture him as a ruthless slayer of demons, carrying out his orders with merciless precision.

She blinked and cast the thought from her mind. How odd, she wasn't usually this distracted by whimsy.

Breathing in the warm, dusty air, she made her way to the desk and cleared her throat. The young woman behind it looked up from her magazine irritably, scorn twisting her painted lips. Minerva's mouth thinned.

"Floo to Hogwarts for two, prepaid, ten past ten. Under McGonagall." She stated primly, pinning the young woman with a dragonish stare that was born from many years in teaching. Her temporary companion came up behind her, and she visibly saw the young woman's eyes catch a strange gleam and set her magazine on her desk quicker than Minerva could spot chewing gum in her class. The older woman's eyes narrowed.

"Oh, hi!" The young woman chirped looking past Minerva, suddenly looking much more sociable and personable. What a surprise, she thought dryly.

The young man next to her sighed and folded his arms, turning his head to the side in an obvious gesture of disinterest.

The attendant pouted. Minerva cleared her throat.

"Our floo?" she prompted. She was spared the bare minimum of notice, to which she donned the look that could send even the Weasley twins cowering. She opened her mouth to release a scathing reprimand, but was beaten to it.

"If you'd get up and bother to do your job instead of _staring_, that would be wonderful." The swordsman said bitingly, his mouth curling into a sneer. "I have better thing to do that stand here and wait for _you._"

The attendant gave a startled, insulted gasp. "_Excuse _me?" she spluttered, a look of some outrage on her pretty face.

Kanda scowled.

"Close your mouth, although I'm sure it's difficult for you." He tossed the scathing response at her. "Floo. Hogwarts. Now."

Cherry red and insulted, the woman ripped off a small, perforated piece of parchment from a reel and handed it shakily to Minerva, who accepted it with the barest nod of the head.

Without a single further word, her long haired companion turned on his heel and stalked towards the door, behind which was a uniform row of fireplaces, his boots rapping on the hard floor.

Minerva raised an eyebrow and, with nary a look at the woman seething behind her desk, followed.

Catching up and casting a wry look at him, she noticed his uncomfortable scowl.

"I would have thought you would be used to dealing with them." She observed.

He started and turned a baleful look on her.

"I am. Doesn't make them any less of a nuisance." He grunted irritably. He changed the subject. "How does this floo shi- _stuff_ work anyway?"

With the trained ears of someone who had been in education for a significant number of years, she noticed the slip of his tongue. Slightly amused yet not a little disapproving, she filed that away for future reference.

"Assuming you wish the working version," she began, "You take a pinch of powder, cast it into the fire, step into the flames and say the name of the destination you wish to travel to. Make sure to enunciate clearly, keep your arms and legs tucked close and hold your breath."

Her tone had slipped into one she used while teaching and she regarded him with a beady stare when he narrowed his eyes after she didn't continue.

"Wait, that's _it?_" he questioned roughly.

She blinked, not entirely sure she was appreciative of his tone.

"Well, yes. Were you expecting something more?"

He was silent for a few moments, apparently trying to hold back a flood of vitriol.

"You mean to say that I didn't have to make the trip down here?" he ground out.

Minerva frowned as she walked to the nearest fireplace, sweeping around a portly wizard wearing a tricorne hat.

"I am sure it was a valuable experience to integrate yourself into the wizarding world." She pointed out, waiting by her chosen fireplace.

He followed her dutifully, coat flaring around his ankles.

"'Valuable experience' my ass." He grumbled sourly. "It's not the Alley that I disagree with, although it is _disgustingly_ cheerful. It was the _unnecessary_ thirteen hour train ride to get to it that pisses me off."

Minerva blinked.

"Thirteen hour train ride?" she questioned.

"I came from Scotland." He shrugged. "It was said that it was imperative for me to be here to be escorted _back to Scotland_."

She sighed.

"I don't suppose anyone bothered to find out where you were coming _from._ My apologies."

He shuffled awkwardly.

"Doesn't matter." Was the gruff response. "Let's just _go."_

She gave the barest hint of a smile and tossed the sparkling powder into the lowly crackling fire. The flames suddenly roared back into life, burning an unnatural, lambent emerald green.

She idly noticed him jumping slightly beside her and repressed an amused smile. It was a little mean of her, but she enjoyed these reactions from those new to the wizarding world's intricacies.

She gestured to the green flames.

"Step inside, say 'Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry' and hold your breath." She instructed.

"You _cannot_ be serious."

Minerva frowned.

"I assure you Mr. Kanda, that I am completely serious." She fixed him with a beady stare she used on reluctant students and was rewarded when he twitched and broke eye contact.

Grumbling under his breath, he approached the fire and cautiously stretched out a hand. Feeling no heat he paused, scowled and swore viciously under his breath.

"Fuck this magic bullshit." He snarled and tried to ignore every self-preservation instinct that told him to _not walk into fire_. Especially if it was _green._

Minerva cleared her throat, giving her newest fellow staff member a hawk eyed stare. He glared right back and she raised an eyebrow.

"I'm _going. _You want me to walk into fire. Don't rush me." He bit out.

She sighed. It was another Severus.

Taking a breath, he took one large stride into the roaring flames. Noticing he wasn't immediately burned to a crisp or anything of the sort, he intoned his destination clearly and was whisked away in a tongue of green flame.

Minerva smiled softly.

Newbies. Bless.

* * *

Kanda was less than impressed.

This was not a new state for him, but nevertheless, it was one he dearly wished he was not in so often.

Floo travel was uncomfortable, messy and nauseatingly fast. Thankfully, the swordsman required impeccable balance to not fall on his face when fighting _akuma_ with his acrobatic sword style, so was able to keep his footing when he was spat out of the fireplace at the other end.

Grumbling under his breath, he brushed the small amount of ash from his uniform and hair, before realising that that woman was no doubt right behind him. Moving prudently to the left, he watched with a single raised eyebrow when the fire roared green and she walked out as though it was as normal as stepping off a bus.

Which, he realised, it probably was.

God, these magic folk were _weird._

"I see you arrived in one piece Mr. Kanda." She greeted him, prim and stonily polite as always. He liked that. "Welcome to Hogwarts."

Inclining his head in thanks (he really was grateful for her help, and the fact that she almost as no-nonsense as he was), he cast an eye over the room he had arrived in.

Neat and organised, it was a decently sized office space. Piles of carefully stacked paper lay on the surface of the wooden desk, and there was a pot of ink and a quill were lying on it. The walls were covered in shelves which were groaning under the weight of countless files and books. He assumed it was her office.

It was so very… teacher-ish.

He hoped his office wouldn't end up like this.

"If you will follow me, I will show you to your office and adjoining quarters. A classroom has been set up for you on the third floor; I will show you as we pass it."

Minerva was clearly wasting no time. He approved.

As they swept through the stone corridors, he tried to remember all she was telling him.

He was certain he was going to need a map, but was loathe to ask her for one.

Sooner than he would have supposed, she stopped before an unremarkable door on the same floor as hers.

"This is your office and quarters. You may customise it how you wish, within reason." Her tone was steady but warning.

He shrugged.

"I have very Spartan tastes." He assured her.

The temptation to grin was hard to resist.

He had an office.

He could rub _that_ in Walker's face.

* * *

_And that's the end of that. Finally at Hogwarts, and it only took three chapters. Sorry for the slow update, but as those who follow my _Cardinal Vices_ series know, a few weeks wait is NOTHING._

_Kanda can be so immature sometimes. McGonagall's part was hard to write. I don't know why._

_I dislike essays._

_I also dislike planning them._

_Please do send in your opinions and critique. It helps. :)_


	4. Chapter 4

_Disclaimer: _I do not own D. Grey-Man, Harry Potter or any of their affiliates. Anything that you recognise is property of their respective owners. Any relations to persons living or dead are purely coincidental.

_Base/s:_ D. Grey-Man and Harry Potter

_Title:_ Mercurial

_Summary:_ Kanda does not like people. He likes children even less. Regrettably for the irritable swordsman, his fellow Exorcists are indisposed and the duty of researching a magic school falls to him. How unfortunate. Rated Teen for language because Kanda.

_Music:_

* * *

Kanda had been informed that he was to make an appearance at breakfast. Apparently, it was a communal affair and as the new staff member, the rest of the staff would want to say hello.

How _utterly_ enthusiastic he was.

Thankfully, the deputy headmistress had shown him his classroom the day before, along with a brief skeleton tour of the castle. Kanda had only taken half of it in, and it had left his head in a dizzying spiral of stone passages, curious paintings and moving staircases.

His classroom, surprisingly, fit his standards. Having not been involved in the intricacies of his placement here, preferring to leave that Komui and his division, he had been unaware that there had to have been several major changes to the castle to incorporate his new subject.

Three of the spare classrooms on the third floor had been converted into one large room which, even with the expansion of three rooms knocked through, was still bigger than it should have been on the inside. Deciding not to pursue that line of thought lest it twist his head in confusing directions, he had inspected his designated room.

He grudgingly made a mental note to thank (or at least _acknowledge_) Komui for setting this up, since he was sure that wizards would never have thought to put everything he needed in there.

Padded mats, a large bag of plastic balls that hung from a peg on that wall, a door to what he assumed was a storeroom for other things he might need and large, strong looking windows that let light stream into the large room.

He couldn't really ask for more, unless they could find him a sparring partner. This, he was aware, was unlikely.

* * *

He had, as usual, started his day with an hour or so of training, testing out the room with his own routine.

By the time he was finished and presentable, it was time to walk the green mile.

Sourly sweeping down the staircase and making sure to keep an eye on the stupid thing in case it moved on him, he thought that maybe calling his walk to his inaugural meeting with his fellow staff members the 'green mile' was a little overdramatic.

He idly toyed with the idea that they may be adverse to his presence, as though he was encroaching on their turf.

He supposed they could just go fuck themselves then.

With that cheering thought, he took a breath and pushed open one of the large doors to the main hall, slipping inside and hoping he had not attracted too much notice.

He had seen the great hall the day before, but it had been in the evening, and too dark to see very much. As he raised his eyes to the enchanted ceiling, he found that even he could appreciate its splendour.

The walls were a warm, tan stone and stretched up for an age, swooping into a vaulted ceiling that likened to a cathedral. The stone gave way to impossible views of the sky above, currently the pallid, periwinkle blue of early morning. Watery sunlight shone through the clouds and bathed the hall in its cold morning light. Plinths and gargoyles decorated the walls, holding fire bowls, unlit at this time of the morning.

It smelt faintly of ashes and dust and _age_. It reminded him ever so slightly of their old Headquarters.

Bringing himself back down to earth lest he look like an awestruck child, he strode purposefully towards the long table at the head of the hall, which was partially filled with people.

His footsteps were harsh on the flagstones, his boots rapping against the hard stone.

He saw one or two faces look up at his entrance and steeled himself for _conversation_. A wisp of a memory vaguely meandered into his head as he walked, one of Lenalee patting him on the head, giggling and telling him that '_being shy was so _cute_!_'

He wasn't _shy_ goddammit. It was just that in his opinion, people just sucked.

Mood falling faster than a skydiver who had forgotten his parachute, he continued his march to the head table.

One figure that he recognised from one of his books as the Headmaster, stood.

His long beard didn't hide his smile which spread across his aged face with cheer, leaving him looking for all the world like a Merlin and Santa Claus hybrid. What was left of the swordsman's blackened, vindictive little soul tried not to vomit.

"Ahh, if it isn't our new addition!" the Headmaster greeted warmly, stretching his arms out in welcome. "Professor Kanda, how nice of you to join us."

Kanda wasn't quite able to manage a smile, so he settled for a small bow and sharp nod.

"Headmaster Dumbledore." He greeted neutrally.

The aged wizard chuckled.

"Come come, no need to be so stiff my boy! Pull up a chair, I believe yours is next to Professor Sprout." He said, indicating the smiling woman with the flyaway grey hair.

His facial muscles having seized sometime after being hit with the air of genial cheerfulness and a twinkle that would have put Tinkerbell to shame, Kanda merely inclined his head politely and swept to where the headmaster had indicated, where a green clad woman was sitting.

There were only around four or five people sitting at the table, the rest either having not arrived at the school yet, or simply did not rise this early in the morning.

Taking his seat somewhat awkwardly, he was immediately accosted (greeted) by Professor Sprout.

"So, you're the new meat eh?" she laughed, ruddy cheeks moving into a good natured smile. "I'm Pomona Sprout, Herbology professor. I don't envy you, dealing with the mob running around; I have enough trouble when they're still!"

Somewhat taken aback at the cheerful, exuberant greeting, the long haired swordsman blinked and had to spend a moment formulating his response.

"Kanda. They _will_ behave in my class, I can assure you of that."

Sprout raised an eyebrow.

"Such confidence! I'd be open for tips if you'd share them…" she wheedled. Kanda was not used to someone who was as open and friendly as the Herbology professor and found himself somewhat at a loss.

He shrugged.

"If they want to stay in one piece, they will behave. If not, I am always in need to a sparring partner."

Sprout smiled again, and Kanda got the impression she was an honestly happy person.

God he hated those people.

"I suppose I could threaten to feed them to my Venomous Tentacula." She offered, obviously enjoying the conversation far more than the Exorcist was.

He raised an eyebrow. What the hell was a Venomous- whatever?

Her eyes lit up but before she could speak, she was interrupted.

"You would not want to make such a grave mistake as to ask Pomona anything about her plants, Professor Kanda."

The swordsman looked around, and came face to face with a young woman, perhaps in her mid to late twenties, with dark ebony skin and a smirk twisting a full mouth.

"Aurora Sinistra, Astronomy." She greeted. "A pleasure. As I said, Pomona would imprison you in her greenhouse if she could."

Greenhouse? Kanda was unaware the school had _greenhouses_.

Perhaps Sprout would let him visit them…?

Sprout chuckled.

"Take a good look at her now Professor Kanda, you won't see Aurora this early ever again once the students arrive."

"I can imagine." He put in, pouring a cup of tea.

"It'll be nice to have another early riser to talk to though." Sprout continued blithely. "Unless you're only here because Minerva forced you to be?"

Taking a sip of the scalding tea, the swordsman snorted softly, his eyes cast on the dark liquid in his mug.

"No. I'm up by five." He provided, wondering why he was bothering to engage in conversation. "Training." He explained as an afterthought, seeing Sinistra open her mouth in surprise.

"Well, each to their own, I suppose." Sprout shrugged, going back to her porridge. "We have the Code of Conduct to read today by the way. It's a pamphlet given out by the Ministry on how to teach. Load of tripe." She muttered into her spoon. "Bureaucratic twaddle."

Kanda raised a single eyebrow.

"How _utterly_ entertaining." He muttered, picking up an apple.

Sinistra laughed, covering her mouth with an elegant hand.

"Quite the cutting tongue you have there, Professor Kanda. I would like to see you debate with Severus." She said, eyes sparking with humour.

Sinking into his seat and regretting opening his mouth (something that he foresaw would happen often at this school), the Exorcist merely grunted, going back to his tea.

"Oh Aurora, you've embarrassed him!" Sprout exclaimed, looking positively overjoyed with that fact.

Very much wanting to disappear and/or commit some grievous bodily harm, the swordsman merely gritted his teeth and, with a foul expression, drained the last of his tea.

He had been asked to come here to meet his colleagues. He'd met them. He'd even been _nice_.

The term 'nice' was, of course, subjective. The definition of the word nice that was used by the general population did not apply to the long haired swordsman, whose definition of nice would likely make people recoil in disgust and shock.

"_If_ you're quite finished," he bit out, his expression sour. "I will take my leave and prepare my classroom."

Sprout sighed.

"Sorry, we didn't mean any offence."

Awkward, he made a noise in the back of his throat.

"Tch. Doesn't matter." He grumbled. "I _do_ have to prepare my classroom. If I am going to be teaching the snivelling little brats, I will do it on my own turf."

With the tiniest upturn of his lips that gave his expression a slightly forbidding air, he stood from his position at the table, nodded sharply at the few staff members sitting there, and made to exit the hall.

"Professor Kanda!" The Headmasters voice echoed through the large hall, and the Exorcist rolled his eyes before turning. "There is a staff meeting this evening at seven, I assume we can see you there?"

The swordsman speared the cheerful headmaster with a piercing stare, one that seemed to say 'Well _duh'._

It was, in Kanda's repertoire of looks, several shades above '_kiss my ass_'.

"Certainly Headmaster," he drawled, not bothering to keep his tone neutral. "I look forward to it."

With that utterly polite and extremely pleasant (in his opinion) retort, he slipped out of the great hall once more, content in the knowledge that he had been social enough for one day, and was therefore free to be as anti-social and severe as he liked.

* * *

Albus Dumbledore watched, amused, as his latest acquisition to the staff of Hogwarts exited the hall.

The youth was acerbic and biting, and several years of dealing with his potions master had him able to tell when someone was attempting to be less inimical than they actually were.

It appeared that the young man's personality was as ugly as his aesthetic was beautiful.

Albus allowed himself a small, mischievous smile.

He would _pay_ to be a fly on the wall in the new professor's classroom.

* * *

Kanda sat at his desk, one hand idly penning what he wanted to say in his letter back to Komui, and the other lazily fiddling with the small cuff that pierced his left ear.

There was a hot mug of tea on his desk, along with the core of an apple he had swiped from the kitchens and had yet to throw away. Warm, golden sunlight spilled from a vaulted window and gave the room a pleasant, comfortable feel.

He felt so very out of place.

This life was slow for the most part, quiet and routine.

It was driving him mad, and he'd only been there for a day.

Give him an impossible task; done. Violent, gory, horrible demon deaths; he relished it. Tracking and hunting down Brokers only to act as judge, jury and executioner; orders mercilessly carried out.

This, however, was apparently where his abilities stopped.

He had a feeling this particular mission may just be the end of him, simply due to the fact that if he didn't get to _do_ something soon, he was going to stab himself in the face.

This, as one might imagine, was somewhat detrimental to the outcome of the mission.

With a sudden curse, he threw down his pen and violently stood up from his chair.

With muttered expletives, he wrenched open the door and left the office, snagging his uniform coat as he left.

He needed to kill something.

* * *

It had not taken him long to find his way to the small village that lay beneath the towering shadow of the castle. Hogsmeade was pretty, quaint and charming.

He hated it.

Prowling through the main street, boots striking the cobblestone and coat rustling at his heels, he considered his options.

Option one; bookstore. Not likely, he'd save that for a last resort, he'd read enough books before he'd even arrived.

Option two; sweet shop. Yeah, no.

Option three; joke shop. Surprisingly tempting. He didn't usually hold with pranks and practical jokes, his sense of humour leaning more towards sarcasm and black wit. Pranks of a magical variety however, had some potential. Especially if no one would suspect him, seeing as most of the Black order thought he was allergic to fun.

Option four; twee little coffee shop. He hadn't even going to deign to think about that.

Option five; pub. Now we're talking.

He had two choices of establishment; the clean, cheerful one, or the one with the macabre sign swinging listlessly overhead, and a smattering of shady characters loitering outside.

Spirits lifting somewhat, he altered his course appropriately.

The Hogs Head. Could be worth a look.

* * *

Slipping inside the shady pub, he made his way over to the bar. The bartender glowered out at him from under bushy eyebrows, his hands working at cleaning a dusty, faded glass.

"What'll it be?" the man grunted.

"What do you have?"

The bartender narrowed his eyes, and the swordsman stared back placidly.

"Beer; bottled and bitter. Butterbeer, mead, Beetleberry whiskey, rum, wine, brandy firewhiskey, Quinten Black… the usual." He muttered.

Kanda raised an eyebrow.

"Firewhiskey?" he asked, having heard the term once or twice, but had never managed to figure out what it was.

The bartender sighed and with a very out upon tone, explained.

"Whiskey. Strong. It'll knock you on your back."

Shrugging, the swordsman nodded.

"Two fingers." He requested.

With another grunt, the barkeep busied himself fixing the drink. Finishing doing so and rattling off his price, he took the coins the Exorcist dropped into his palm.

Spotting a dark corner that seemed appropriate to lurk in, he made for it and settled down to skulk in the dark while he sampled his drink.

It was, he found out when he took a sip, just as strong as the bartender said it was. Best drink sparingly then, he decided after sitting there for several minutes.

It was _good_ though.

A small fleeting thought took up residence in his head, and it almost made him smile. Almost.

The image of him spiking drinks in the Black Order mess hall and then sitting back to watch the carnage was one of fantastic, spiteful beauty.

"So, _you_ are our esteemed new colleague."

Kanda blinked at the sudden intrusion into his little secluded corner of brooding, and the snide, slightly nasal voice that invaded his twisted little thoughts of alcohol fuelled chaos.

Turning his head slightly, he came face to face with a tall man swathed in billowing black robes. Thin lips were pulled into a sneer, and dark eyes regarded him with contempt.

"I am." He replied carefully, "And you are?"

The sneer, impossibly, seemed to intensify.

"Severus Snape, potions master."

Kanda raised an eyebrow.

"The infamous Professor Snape. I have heard of you."

The dark haired potions professor narrowed his eyes.

"I cannot say the same. I suppose they didn't find you worth mentioning. I am surprised to find you in here, I was unaware the Hogs Head served children." He shot at the Exorcist.

An ugly expression twisting the swordsman's face, he clenched his hand around his glass.

"Excuse me?" Kanda bit out, "What the fuck is your problem?"

"Charming." The word was delivered with a hint of derision. "I can see you'll be a great asset to the school."

"Like yourself?" Kanda pinned the other man with a flinty stare. "I can _see_ the standards of teaching just rocketing."

"Especially since we've started hiring foreign little pretty boys to teach courses we don't need." Snape shot back, black eyes full of disdain.

"_Kono yarou."_ The swordsman muttered, fully aware how rude it was to speak to someone in a language you knew they didn't understand. "So that's what it is, is it? You think I'm 'infringing on your turf'." The Exorcist snorted. "How about I give you the finger," he did so, giving his best kiss ass stare as accompaniment. "And you fuck off and take your childishness with you."

"You're one to talk of childishness." The potions master drawled, apparently only mildly disgusted by the others crassness.

Kanda took a gulp of his drink, relishing the burn as it travelled down his throat. He shrugged. "You called me a child, I act like one. You call yourself a professor, yet…" he let the sentence hang, deliberately angering the other.

Snape's face showed nothing but mild contempt.

"I do not know what your purpose here is _boy, _but I assure you, not all of us trust as easily as the Headmaster." He said, warning lacing his tone.

Kanda let a contemptuous look settle itself on his face. He leant forward, palms flat on the table.

"Listen here _Kono yarou, _I don't care who you trust or why. Leave me alone and I'll do the same. I don't think I could stomach much more of your presence anyway." The long haired swordsman stood from the table with a scraping of his chair and locked eyes with the potions master.

Snape's lips curled into a humourless smile.

"I would check your glasses more carefully in the future, _Professor Kanda_. You never know when a hand might slip…"

Kanda swallowed and almost unconsciously, laid a hand on the hilt of Mugen.

"Such a poisonous tongue, potions master." He muttered, eyes glittering unpleasantly. "It would be a _great_ pity if someone were to cut it out."

He turned on his heel and made to leave, having had enough of people for one day.

"It's been an enlightening first impression _Kono yarou_. I hope I don't have to talk to you much in the future."

As he slipped out of the door, he heard the potions master's parting shot to him.

"Insolence does no favours for intelligence, _boy._"

Not bothering to supress a snarl, the Exorcist stalked out of the grimy establishment and onto the cobbled street.

So that was the infamous Severus Snape.

Kanda scowled.

He wasn't anything like that guy.

* * *

It hadn't taken him very long to get back to the castle, and he barely remembered the journey. Heading straight to his classroom, he snagged his training clothes on the way, before putting the room to good use.

By the time he paused to look at the time, the sun was low in the sky, casting a tangerine glow over the Scottish landscape, clashing with the purple heather coating the fells that surrounded the castle.

He was panting like a dog when he set his bokken on the rack, wiping sweat from his brow with a towel. Rolling his shoulders, he fell into a progression of stretches, not wanting to strain anything important.

As it was, he was barely down in time for the start of dinner in the great hall, and was forced to endure both a mildly disapproving look from the deputy headmistress (which he ignored) and a disdainful glare from the potions master (which he returned).

His quiet meal was interrupted by a pretty young woman with bubble-gum pink hair, who Kanda would not admit to feeling not a little uncomfortable around. The headmaster had introduced her as 'Auror Tonks', who was there to do a quick check of the school and its grounds on behalf of the Ministry before the term started. He had questioned this, and had been promptly told that it was simply a hoop they had to jump through as educators, and that he should 'deal with it'.

He rather wished she would leave him alone, however.

She kept flirting with him. Really obviously. She wasn't even being obnoxious about it, or giggling like a moron. He wasn't entirely sure how to deal with it.

"Well, at least we know your class numbers will meet quotas." The young Auror remarked dryly, taking a drink of whatever was in her goblet. She had accepted the invitation to stay for the evening meal, before she would leave, her inspection done.

Nonplussed, the swordsman raised an eyebrow.

She let out a barking, disbelieving laugh.

"There'll be girls fighting to get a spot in your classes. C'mon, have you _seen_ you lately?"

"No, I have a death wish and shave with my eyes closed." He snarked, folding his arms and turning his head to one side to hide the faint tinge of pink that had appeared on his cheeks. Stupid woman. Stupid school. Stupid blood flow to his face.

He wanted to swear some more and walk off, but _no._ He had to be _civil._ He was going to have to work with these people for a year or more. _Awesome._

"How cute!" Tonks laughed. "I'm surprised you don't know how to react to me."

He ground his teeth and clenched his hand, almost crushing the cup in his hand.

"My usual reaction would be deemed '_inappropriate'_, '_rude'_ and '_insensitive'_." He muttered.

The woman laughed again before taking another sip.

"I don't doubt." She said humorously. "You really are ever so pretty, until you open your mouth."

"Please stop." He requested stiffly, tautly taking a mouthful of tea to calm his nerves.

She grinned, teeth contrasting prettily with her tan skin.

"That's hardly any fun, now is it?" she teased.

"You enjoy being a bitch, don't you?" he snarled quietly, as to avoid catching the notice of any of the other staff.

She leaned closer, and he tried to ignore her.

"You're very rude." She chastised, that damnable smile still stuck on her face.

"If I'm so rude, I suggest you stop talking to me."

She ignored the comment, but retreated slightly from his personal space, much to his relief.

"Relax, you'll injure yourself sitting that stiffly."

"It's hard to relax when you're whispering in my ear like some sort of snake."

She grinned.

"Thrilling you, is it?"

"'Disturbing' is more like it." He muttered.

"I love it when they play hard to get."

"You're too old for me, maybe the Headmaster would appreciate your attentions more?"

Her grin widened, despite his insult. He wanted to hit her, but that would have probably been frowned upon. Walker had mentioned once that he felt uncomfortable hitting women. Kanda had never felt that was a problem, since most of the women he dealt with every day were not only very able to do him serious injury, but would not have appreciated being treated like glass. Not that he had many social graces to begin with, he was aware. Still, perhaps it was Lenalee's influence, but he always seemed to feel slightly uncomfortable ripping into a female. Stupid girl, she even made him feel bad when she wasn't present.

"Ooh," she grinned, "Harsh."

He spared her a glance, hoping he conveyed the full amount of his distain in that one look. His lip curled and steel grey irises were cold.

"Extremely." He drawled. "Fuck off, will you?"

Before the Auror could reply with something else that would no doubt make him feel uncomfortable, another voice broke into their conversation.

"Nymphadora, don't make the poor lad feel uncomfortable." Sprout interjected, a mildly reproving frown set on her normally cheerful face. "He's only been here a day!"

The Auror looked irritated that the use of her first name but shrugged, going back to her food.

Kanda let his shoulders slump.

Sprout smiled kindly at him.

"You're making quite the impression, aren't you?"

He raised an eyebrow.

"What do you mean? Like you said, I've only been here a day."

The Herbology professor gave him a knowing look.

"I was under the impression _someone_ was in the Hogs Head this afternoon, and had a little conversation with our Potions Master."

His lip curling, the Exorcist's reply was caustic.

"Not that it's any of your business, but what if I did?"

She held up a hand to show she meant no offence, she snorted.

"He came back in a foul mood this afternoon, muttering about 'insolence'. _You_ can be pretty 'insolent', can't you?" she asked shrewdly, a twinkle in her eye.

"When the mood strikes me." He shot back, picking at the remnants of food on his plate.

"It seems like it strikes you pretty often." She grinned. "You had him worked up in quite a tizzy. I don't think he's complained about anyone else as much as Potter in a long while."

"I _live_ for such achievements."

She laughed.

"Well, I'll be bringing popcorn to our staff meeting this evening if you don't mind."

He grunted. This was stupid. He was trying as hard as he could to get them to leave him alone, by being as unpleasant as he could without resorting to actual violence. He supposed he should have expected this, taking a mission in which he was to live and work with full time teachers. Tiedoll was much the same, and he'd never had much luck with him either.

His master was annoying enough, and now he was living with several people who were just like him.

Fabulous.

* * *

_I am not happy with this chapter, let it be said. Tonks will pop up occasionally, if only to irritate Kanda._

_I assume it's the same everywhere else, but inspections of schools are very common by governmental personnel in the UK, and I would believe that Dumbledore would ask for someone at least somewhat familiar with the school._

_Heh, to make up for the lack of McGonagall arguments, I give you Snape. I don't think I can handle all the snark, and I'm _British.

_Next chapter will include the staff meeting, letters and the official start of term._

_Do tell me what your opinions are, if you have any. I will reply to all those who ask me things so feel free._

* * *

Kono yarou:_ Translates to 'you blighter' or 'you shit' etc. General expression of anger, usually directed at men. Because this is Kanda, we can safely assume he is using the latter meaning._


End file.
